


Devil's Wolf

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At The Red Wedding Something Changes, and Westeros is never the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Wedding

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. The Twins**

**King Robb I Stark**

The drums were pounding, by the gods did they truly have to be so loud? His head was hurting, aching really, he looked at his wife and saw how nervous she was, contempt filled him then, his wife, pah, she was nothing more than a foolish mistake he had made. The Westerlings would get their due when he was done here, his wife would get her due tonight he was sure of it. Robb looked around the hall, and saw how the Greatjon drank, and he hid a feeling of disgust, the man was nothing more than a fool, truly, the oaf had thought to put a burden atop of Robb’s shoulders when really they should have gone down a different course of action. That the realisation had come when the war was almost loss was something that Robb did not fail to recognise, it haunted him and as such this was what had driven his change. Honour had been the thing his father had installed in him, and honour had cost him and his family almost everything. The betrayals that had been coming quick and heavy since the crown had been placed atop his head were enough to knock almost any man.

Robb looks around the hall, his head is aching somewhat, but it does not matter, soon enough this nonsense will all be over and he can proceed. His uncle seems happy enough with his bride, a good thing too, for Robb would not like to have to deal with his uncle’s complaints once more, once was already too much on the journey to the Twins. He must admit Walder Frey, for being known as such a lout has truly done his most to make things impressive here. Befitting a king, Robb thinks. A shame really, then that it must come to this. He looks at Walder Frey then and the man catches his eye and speaks. “Your Grace, I do believe we have seen more than enough merriment for tonight. I am an old man and as such am tiring. The newlyweds have said their vows, we have had the meals. Let us have the bedding I say!”

A cheer goes up at this and Robb can feel his heart begin to quicken. “If you believe it is the right time to do so, then by all means to bed with them!” Robb responds.

Another cheer goes up at this and the men and women of the Twins begin removing Edmure and Roslin from the high table and take them forth towards their room. Robb watches this with a slight smile on his face. The old man of the Crossing speaks then. “So Your Grace, what have you made of this wedding then? A shame it could not have been yours we were celebrating eh?”

Robb looks at the man and then says. “Indeed my lord, though my lady wife is a very supple and able woman.” He pats Jeyne then, and his wife looks at him somewhat surprised. Gods that look, he hates that damned look.

“And yet she has not given you a child Your Grace. Why is that? Have you not been ploughing the field has often?” the old man asks.

Robb looks at the man and keeps his face expressionless. “Jeyne has told me that her own mother took some time to conceive a child after getting married to her father. Did you not Jeyne?”

His wife nods. “Yes my king. Very much so.”

The old man looks at him and snorts. “Oh you are good my king, very good. A shame really, for I know my Roslin would have loved to have known you. Instead she is being saddled with that trout who is a limp fish.”

Robb merely looks at him and says. “The gods work in strange ways my lord, very strange ways. Though who knows the old gods do not look down on such an arrangement.”

The old man’s eyes nearly bulge out of his face then. “You would consider something such as that Your Grace?”

“If it were beneficial to me I do not see why I would not.” Robb says smirking slightly.

The old man laughs. “Oh very good Your Grace. Very good, keeping them waiting for more is a perfect way to make men and women stay firm to your cause.”

As the drums begin to fade and the harpists begin to play, Robb stands then and says. “A dance my queen?” Jeyne nods and takes his hand and as he leads her to the floor, he looks at the old man, the old man merely moves his slightly and Robb knows it is to come. As the music begins, he and Jeyne dance, slowly at first, their bodies pressed to one another and then as the music begins to quicken he speaks. “You seem nervous my love, what is the matter?”

“I do not know why you brought me here Robb. Did you think to make Frey feel insulted?” his wife asks.

“No, why ever would you think that? I am a king, I cannot afford to insult Walder Frey.” Robb replies.

His wife looks at him and there is such hope and love, but some other emotion in her eyes as well, he does not know what to call it, but he can see it and it angers him, he wonders how he did not see it before. “Because would it not make sense for me to have remained in Riverrun? You were going to ensure that were you not?”

“No, never.” Robb says. “You are my wife and my queen. I would not have you remain behind for something as petty as the pride of Walder Frey, a man who cost his liege lord many things over the years and perhaps even hindered the war effort from the very beginning.”

The words seem to reassure his wife and she whispers. “Thank you, I am grateful my love. I did not want to be left behind, truly I did not.”

Robb nods, and then gives his wife a twirl as the music changes, and as the drums beat out a long note before entering a haunting melody Robb speaks. “So tell me my love, how much do you know of your grandmother?”

“My grandmother?” his wife stutters. “I do not know a lot, I know she was somewhat of a powerful potions mistress when she was young and that she met Queen Cersei when she was young, but other than that nothing.”

 _She is lying._ Robb thinks, this war has taught him one thing and it is to note when someone is lying to him and his wife is lying to him, determined to find out why he asks. “Are you sure?” he tightens his hold of her causing his wife to wince.

“I am, my love. I do not know much more about her.” his wife replies.

“For certain?” he asks tightening further until her breathing is coming out in harsh gasps.

“For certain my love, you are hurting me Robb.” His wife pants.

Robb loosens his hold then and whispers. “Just as you are hurting me my love.”

“What do you mean Robb? How have I hurt you?” his wife asks.

Robb pulls away from his wife then just as the music begins to change into another haunting melody, this one something of a legacy, of fallen houses and a proud lord, a lion with a coat of gold and a coat of red. As his wife’s face changes to one of horror, and he sees his mother’s face change as well, Robb smiles and calls out. “I know you betrayed me Jeyne. I heard you speaking with your mother about the potion. I loved you and yet you betrayed me. You broke my heart and took advantage of me and for that you must die.”

His wife looks horrified then. “Please Robb, my love. I did not mean anything! I was forced into doing this, I only wanted to help you!”

Robb laughs then, as the music begins to quicken, he can see the bowmen drawing their arrows. “You lie worse than my father did. And that is saying something. I am sorry but you are not the woman I thought you were and for the lie you have told and the treason you have done you must die.” Robb moves away through the throng of the crowd then and as the arrows go whirring down toward his wife, he closes his eyes as he hears her scream, and knowing that deep down some part of him is hurting.

When he opens his eyes, Lord Frey is looking at him, and his eyes are gleaming with malice. “Ah, so the king has some spine after all. A shame then that this must end like this. it would have been nice to fight alongside this part of you…Your Grace.” There is a long pause and then the old man says. “Kill the boy and his men. Kill every single last one of them.”

Robb who had long been expecting, in fact had prepared for this, pulls out his dagger and begins ducking and weaving through the chaos that has quickly become the great hall of the Twins, he manages to bury his dagger within a man’s chest, and then moves onward, ducking before a man’s fist. He pushes through the throng, trying to get to his mother, he does not know where she is but by the gods this is more of a struggle than he thought it would be. He picks up the sword of a fallen Frey and begins cleaving his way through the masses of bodies piling in. He sees the Greatjon fighting off three men with nothing more than a chicken leg before being brought down by a sixth and seventh man. He feels something press into his side and sees Roose Bolton looking at him. Snarling he knows of the man’s betrayal and throws himself at him. Bolton is old, but he is quick, he ducks and weaves missing Robb’s blows, though he manages to get some of his own in.

Robb’s sides hurt, but he presses on blood pumping causing him to do so, forcing his way onward. He manages to connect with Bolton’s sword and then their dance begins in earnest. There is a swing, a thrust, a parry and on it goes, backward and forward neither man conceding ground until, Robb manages with some strength beyond what he has, to bury the sword within Roose’s chest, roaring in triumph at that. The hall falls silent for a moment and then it breaks once more into unending chaos. Robb feels his strength beginning to leave him, his body is wracked with cuts and bruises, all the while the music is playing, the Rains of Castamere weaves a dreadful sound through this most hideous of weddings. Robb winces slightly but continues onward, he slashes and a man falls, he cuts and another falls. But then the battering continues slashing away at his insides, his heart aches, but heart is stone, turning away from that emotion that got him here in the first place. His wife’s body lies on the floor near him and when the blow comes he falls down next to it, and as the world goes to black he swears he can hear his mother screaming for him.

_Chaos, never ending, a black void, a wolf howling at the moon, but there is no answer. The children fight over control, as the father lies dying in his bed. The war wages on for a time until the fire comes, and with it more death rides in, sweeping all before them. This continues until the father passes and the eldest son grows forth from his slumber and sets the world to order once more. Deals are made, peace is agreed but in the end darkness controls all, though the light is emerging._

Robb awakens with a sharp thud, his eyes snap open and he finds himself in a room, a well-furnished room. He blinks slowly and sees a hulking figure standing before him. “Ah, good, you are awake.” The figure says.

“Where am I?” he asks his voice slightly slurred. “What happened?”

“You are within the eastern tower. My father implemented the plan Your Grace. It is done.” The voice replies.

His vision clearing, Robb sees that Black Walder Frey is the man he is speaking to. His breathing easing, he sighs and says. “Good we may begin then.”

 


	2. Espionage

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Riverrun**

**Lord Edmure Tully**

His wedding was not a night he would forget, not for as long as he lived. He had been so relieved that his bride was not ugly, that he had not known what was going on around him. It shamed him truth be told, to know that as the carnage had been proceeding down below, he had been fucking his new wife. It truly did shame him, and yet in the morning when all was said and done, when Black Walder Frey had come as Edmure thought to mock him and had instead freed him and put him on his way, Edmure had been confused, so very confused, and it was only after speaking with Robb that he had understood, somewhat of this plan, still he did not understand it all, but had done as bid, and fled from the Twins. He had ridden hard, Patrek Mallister and Marq Piper at his side to Riverrun and it was here that he now plotted his next move.

“The king is mad if he thinks this will work. There is no doubt within my mind that we shall be found out, and hung for treason.” Marq Piper says. “Why is he so willing to go ahead with this anyway?”

Edmure looks at his friend and says. “I believe it is because he has had enough of the fighting. He wishes to see peace now. Though I am not sure I truly understand it myself.”

“It is pure madness. A man such as Tywin Lannister will never truly believe this. We cannot do this. I will not allow you to do this Edmure. Surely you can see how mad it is?” Marq says.

Edmure looks at his friend and then says. “I admit I have my doubts. But Robb has commanded me to do this. And he is my king whether or not this is admitted, he is still my king and I must do as he says.”

“We’ve been fighting a damned war for two years and you would do this now? Why? Pray tell me why you would do this?” Marq exclaims. “The King has clearly gone mad, you saw what he did to his own wife, why should we do whatever he asks of us now?”

“Because he is our king, and I am not an oath breaker.” Edmure replies, though he remembers the haunted look in Robb’s face and he wonders.

“I cannot believe this. What are you doing this for Edmure? The king? He abandoned you and let you go to that wedding where you nearly fucking died. Why are you allowing him to dictate terms to you?” Marq asks.

“Because he is my god damned king, and that is that. I will not hear any more on it.” Edmure says. Turning to his uncle he asks. “When will they be here?”

The Blackfish who looks deeply haggard merely says. “Within the week. I expect that soon enough Black Walder will send men to make the plan go into action. You will need to play your part of course. As will Ser Patrek and Ser Marq here.”

“I cannot allow this Edmure. I think it is ridiculous. You cannot seriously be considering doing this.” Marq argues. “Patrek surely you agree with me. The man intends to threaten Seagard!”

Patrek Mallister, heir to Seagard and by far a more reasonable man than Marq, looks at him then and says. “I would rather live than die. I would rather live to fight another day then die alone and broken. There is much and more we can do alive Marq, your own father would not want you to die for some false hope. Our king has decided on a course of action, it is time we worked on it and made it happen.”

“Why? Why should we do what he is asking us to do? He is sitting there allowing his kingdom to fall into chaos. Why should we give two shits about what he says?” Marq blusters.

His patience fraying, Edmure snaps. “Because he is our king. But not only that, it is a sound plan and one that will ensure that the Riverlands remains whole and out of Lannister control for the foreseeable future. So long as my family is in Riverrun they cannot hold the riverlands properly. And I do not know about you, but I do not want a Frey or a Lannister sat in my home. We shall do this, and we shall do it properly, now are you with us or not Marq?”

The heir to Pink Maiden is silent for a long moment, eventually he responds. “Very well, I do not like this, but I will go along with you and do as our king has asked. And yet I will not be held responsible for when it all comes crashing down. Which it will, I do not think for one moment that Tywin Lannister will truly believe that this is happening without an ulterior motive.”

“He will not have another choice.” Edmure replies. “It is either this, or the realms fall into chaos and Tywin Lannister is not a man to embrace chaos. Not without some other motive within it for him. He will accept and be thankful for it when it comes to light what we are sparing him.”

“He will have his hands full regardless, his sister and her oaf of a husband will begin complaining bitterly when they realise what is happening, and the Tyrells will of course be an issue. Something I do not think Lord Tywin has truly considered, at least not fully.” His uncle says.

Edmure nods. “Now,” he begins looking at all of them. “I need you all to swear on your lives that you shall do as our king has asked, and that you will not betray the reasoning of this to anyone. Not your wives, your mothers, nor your fathers, not until the time is right. Only then can you truly reveal what is to happen.” As the three men swear their oaths to do as asked, Edmure wonders just what it is Robb is planning, he does not fully understand but he will do this, for Cat’s boy. Once the men have finished swearing their oaths, he says. “Now you must return to your holdings, and send word of surrender to King’s Landing. Uncle, you know what to do for Riverrun.”

“Aye.” His uncle replies.

“Good.” Edmure says, he pauses a moment and then says. “Let us begin then.”

* * *

 

**King’s Landing**

**Tyrion Lannister**

King’s Landing was a buzz, it seemed with the wedding of his nephew the king and Lady Margaery all sorts of things were happening. The darkness and despair that had so affected the city in the lead up to Stannis Baratheon’s attack was gone, replaced by joy and happiness, and yet Tyrion could not share in it. He resented almost everything, he did not want this, he wanted recognition yet it was not going to come to him, not with anything he did. Gods he was angry. And now this council meeting was something else. All looked happy, yet he did not understand why. “Who have you killed now Your Grace?” Tyrion asks jokingly as he sits down next to Mace Tyrell, the blustering buffoon of Highgarden.

To his surprise his nephew replies. “Robb Stark is dead.”

“What?” Tyrion asks surprised.

“I said, Robb Stark and his whore of a mother are dead. Can you not hear imp?” the king replies.

“How did they die?” Tyrion asks, ignoring his nephew and speaking to his father.

“At Edmure Tully’s wedding. It seems Walder Frey was not suitably satisfied with Robb Stark’s apology. And as such decided to take his feelings out on the boy and his mother as well as the northmen and rivermen who were there.” his father replies.

“I want his head brought to King’s Landing. They removed his head from his body and attached it to his direwolf you know.” His nephew says conversationally. “I want his head brought to King’s Landing so I might make Sansa kiss it.”

“Your Grace, cannot mean that surely!” uncle Kevan says. “Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage. Such a thing is unthinkable.”

“Oh I mean it. I want to see her kiss her traitor brother’s mouth. That can be her wedding present to me.” Joffrey says.

“No.” Tyrion says. “You will not do this. Sansa is not yours to torment anymore Your Grace. She is mine to protect, and I will not let you do this.”

“Then I will remove your head and make your wife kiss it. Maybe then you might finally give her some pleasure.” The king snarls.

“You are very welcome to try Your Grace. But I will see your men killed before they get anywhere close enough to try and kill me. And then I will come for you. I am dwarf you see, and we do not take well to being threatened.” Tyrion says.

“Enough!” Lord Tywin thunders. “Enough. We are not children to be fighting amongst ourselves. Robb Stark and his men are dead, and whatever else happens, the north is now ripe for the taking. With Lord Roose dead at the wedding as well, the northmen shall begin fighting amongst themselves. They will be desperate for a return to order, and you Tyrion shall present them with their liege lord’s daughter. They will bend to her and that will be that. An army will of course go north with you, and ensure order.”

Tyrion is surprised by this. He looks at his father then and asks. “When will we depart?”

“After the wedding. There are other things that need sorting out here before you leave, and the northmen must know fear first, before you can go and restore order.” His father says. There is a pause and then the man says. “Pycelle, there has been news from the Riverlands has there not, tell me what has come.”

The old maester is silent a moment and then he responds. “Lords Bracken, Mallister, Piper and Vance have all offered their surrender in light of their king’s death. Furthermore the garrison of Riverrun has offered surrender as well.”

“Brynden Tully surrendered? By the gods what is this world coming to?” Tyrion muses aloud.

“The Blackfish is a smart man and he knows he cannot hold with his nephew in chains in the Twins.” Randyll Tarly says.

“I want them dead. I do not want them to bend, I want them dead. They are traitors, and traitors deserve only death.” The king says.

“If that was the case, then none of us would be sitting here, and Stannis Baratheon would be sat the Iron Throne. The Tyrells are the reason you have a head on your shoulders Your Grace, and that’s not just because of the aid they gave at the Blackwater. Lord Tyrell here is keeping the city alive with his food. I would think first before you speak.” Tyrion says chidingly.

His nephew looks at him with contempt. “My goodfather was never a traitor. But the Starks and their allies always have been. It is only right that they die for their treason. To give them the same fate as their leader, and to replace them with men who know their honour.”

“For once my son speaks sense Your Grace.” Lord Tywin says, and Tyrion is so surprised that the man is speaking in favour of him he nearly falls off his chair. “If an enemy continues to fight then you crush it. But if an enemy gets to bended knee, you help lift them back to their feet and give them promise of fair justice. Otherwise there would be none left to rule.”

Tyrion watches as the king and Lord Tywin stare at one another, as this contest goes on and on, Tyrion desperately wants to take a drink but he dare not bring attention to himself, instead he merely watches it unfold with morbid fascination. He smiles when the king breaks away first and says. “I still think they should be killed. But whatever. Do whatever you want old man, just don’t come running to me when they rebel again.” with that the king stands up and walks out of the council meeting.  Tyrion risks a glance at his father, and sees that his expression is like that of thunder. The last time he saw his father’s face like that was when he was brought before his father after he had married Tysha, the memory of what happened after that still haunts him to this day. Involuntarily he shivers. 


	3. Twins

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

King’s Landing was abuzz with the preparations for his brother’s wedding, and as was often the case Tommen was being overlooked. It did not sting as much as it used to, in fact he was quite used to it by now. Joffrey had always gotten more attention, more love, more everything, Tommen was just the spare, and truth be told he was okay with that. At least he had been until Sansa had come about, then he had wanted to get noticed. There was something about her that made him wish to come forward from his sense of obscurity and be noticed. And they were friends, but nothing more, never anything more. She was married to his uncle now, and as such was off limits.

Of course they still spoke with one another, and this walk today was one of the few pleasantries left as the wedding approached. “How are you faring my lady?” Tommen asks. Trying to avoid speaking of the red wedding was hard, but he was determined to do it for his friend.

Sansa is silent a moment and then replies. “I am well thank you my prince. It has been hard recently, but it could be worse. I could be without a home.”

Tommen refrains from pointing out the facts of Winterfell, and instead feels quite happy she thinks of King’s Landing as home now. “I am relieved to hear that my lady. I was worried for you. Tell me, how go things with my uncle?”

“Good my prince. Lord Tyrion is a kind man, who has been nothing but thoughtful in our dealings. I feel bad though, for I cannot be the wife he deserves, not with all that stands between our two families.” His friend replies.

Tommen looks at her and asks worriedly. “Does that mean that we are at an end then? Are the tensions too much for you to remain friendly with me?”

Sansa stops and looks at him then, her smile makes his breath catch. “Of course not Tommen. You are my friend, you were my friend before all of this happened. Nothing that happens can change that. Unless you do something to make it change.”

Tommen looks at her, and he feels as if he could kiss her, but in all honesty he does not know how to respond. Swallowing nervously he says. “I promise I won’t say anything or do anything to break this friendship Sansa. You are too important to me to lose.”

Sansa smiles. “If we were able to overcome me being the daughter of a traitor, then I think we should be able to overcome this. But yes, if we could move onto more peaceful topics of conversation that would be most appealing.”

Tommen grins then and bows, his grin widening when he hears Sansa giggle. He straightens and says. “Well I did read about the Dragonknight and his role in his brother’s war on Dorne earlier today.”

“Oh?” his friend says inquisitively. “And what did you learn?”

“He was most opposed to the war, saying that it was a frightful waste of lives, and that it would bring only chaos and destruction to the kingdoms. His brother laughed and told him he was getting soft in his old age. His brother argued that fighting with Dorne was a good thing that it was in their blood to do so. That it was their duty to fight the Dornish.” Tommen says.

“And what did the Dragonknight say in response?” Sansa asks.

“He said that his brother was a fool and that his actions would only bring more war to Westeros. War it could ill afford.” Tommen pauses then. “He was right you know, it did only bring more suffering to Westeros. The Dornish never forgot what Aegon the Unworthy did and they made his son suffer for it.”

“Aegon the Unworthy sounds just like Joffrey.” Sansa says conspiringly.

“I know. He is as big an idiot as that man.” Tommen replies grinning slightly.

Sansa clutches his arm then and dreamily says. “Then you must be the Dragonknight Tommen, my prince. You must stop your brother’s foolishness.”

Tommen blushes furiously, he knows she is only joking but a part of him truly does want to be her Dragonknight. “Now isn’t this a sight for sick eyes.” A snide voice says.

Tommen looks up from Sansa and sees his brother Joffrey as well as Lady Margaery there looking at them both. “Your Grace.” Tommen says bowing, whilst Sansa removes her arm from his and curtseys. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“We were merely taking a walk. Finding you here was a most unexpected displeasure.” His brother says.

“Come now my love, it is not so bad. Perhaps we can go on a walk together all four of us?” the lady Margaery suggest.

Tommen does not like his brother’s bride to be, there is something off about her, something that does not quite sit right with him. He cannot place it, but there is something there. His brother thankfully says. “If you wish, it would mean getting to spend more time with you my lady. And that can never be a bad thing.”

Tommen nearly gags at just how sickening seeing his brother act nice is, and looking at Sansa he knows that she feels the same. “Ah excellent my love, shall we proceed then?” the Lady asks.

His brother nods and walks on ahead with his lady, whilst Tommen, his stomach knotting, looks at Sansa and smiles reassuringly, she has gone far away, and he hates his brother all the more at that. “Sansa?” he asks. “Sansa my lady, do you wish to go on?”

“What? Oh yes, most certainly.” Sansa replies.

Tommen looks at her then and says. “If you do not want to I can take you back to my uncle. I understand if you do not want to spend time with them.”

“No, no. I want to spend some time with you. I know how busy you are going to be, and this is nice Tommen, my prince, just the two of us.” Sansa replies.

 _If only it could be the two of us, that would be nice. But uncle Tyrion is not a bad man._ Tommen thinks guiltily. Nodding he says. “Very well, let us proceed my lady.” With that he takes Sansa’s arm and leads her forward behind his brother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**The Twins**

**Robb Stark**

He watched the flames, something between relief and grief flooding through him, it had been a struggle, convincing himself to do this, that she had died during the wedding had been a deep shame, and yet, he was relieved. His mother had not been alive for most of the war since his father had died, she had been a living shell, and yet still she was his mother and seeing her like this was not what he wanted. As the pyre wound its way down the Green Fork, Robb felt a deep sense of loss. He truly was alone now. Truly alone.

Turning from the sight, he nods to Black Walder and when the man joins him, Robb speaks. “Tell me what happened.”

The new Lord of the Crossing is silent a moment as if contemplating his response and then he says. “During the chaos it seems some of the Karstark men got to her and stabbed her. There was nothing we could do when we found her. I am sorry Your Grace.”

“It was not your fault, those damned Karstarks are at fault now, and they shall have their dues when it comes time. Now what of the rest of your family?” Robb responds.

“My father saw to my great grandfather, and as for the rest, well the fighting that broke out following the death of Queen Jeyne destroyed most of them.” the man replies.

“Good. The fewer there are of your kin, the more secure your hold on the twins shall be. You are of course sending the women and children off to the septries and the citadel.” Robb says.

“Of course, I would not dream of keeping these fools around here to cause me trouble. The only issues I am finding are with my great uncle Emmon. The man does have the backing of Tywin Lannister himself.” Black Walder replies.

“Make no worry over the man, he shall be dealt with soon enough. My uncles know what to do should that fool ever come toward Riverrun. As for Tywin Lannister, I do believe he has his hands fool at the moment with his grandson’s wedding.” Robb responds.

“Yes, do you intend to strike soon then? Whilst the man is busy with such things?” Black Walder enquires.

Robb stops then, and fixes the man with a hard gaze. “That wedding shall remain as it is, a mere wedding. Whatever other things occur at that are of the Lannisters own volition, or the Tyrells. I will not befoul a sacred event again.”

Frey bows his head. “Of course Your Grace, I was not suggesting that you do something as profane as that. I was merely asking if Your Grace was considering making a move to retrieve Your Grace’s sister during the wedding.”

“Far too risky, and one must maintain the illusion of being dead for some more time. Otherwise there are many things that would be brought into question. Timing is the key here Lord Walder, anything else and the whole plan fails.” Robb responds, holding up a hand to silence the new Lord of the Crossing when he sees a diminutive man walking toward him. “Ah Lord Howland you bring word I trust?”

Lord Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch, and his way of controlling the north whilst remaining at large, the man bows. “Yes Your Grace.” He replies in a very musical voice. “Karstark and Bolton men made their way through the causeway after the wedding, and we did as asked. They are now down many men, and the rest are spreading tales of the carnage that we inflicted on them.”

“And what of the rest of the north?” Robb asks, eager to know how his kingdom fares, and yet not wanting to give away that much to these two men. “Do they begin for war as well?”

“Yes Your Grace. As we knew they would. Umber and Karstark are arming themselves, Bolton’s bastard is preparing to wreak havoc on all, the Ryswells and the Dustins are preparing themselves as well. It will be war in the north soon enough.” The man says.

“And what of Manderly, what is our Lord of White Harbour doing?” Robb asks.

“He is waiting and watching, looking to see whether or not a victor can emerge from such conflicts. At the same time, he looks to the wall, to where your bastard brother Jon Snow sits, and thinks about crowning him.” Howland responds.

Robb considers this, then says. “You know what to then my lord. Send men north, ensure that Wyman does not get his hands on my brother before the time is right. As for your own person, I want you to head south. There is a growing movement within the riverlands and in the crownlands, I want you to take full advantage of that.”

The man bows again. “Yes Your Grace.” With that he turns and leaves, as Robb watches him go he wonders what secrets the man is keeping.

Once the man has disappeared from view, Robb turns back to Black Walder. “Now that that is sorted, it is time we begin the next stage of the plan.”

“Yes Your Grace.” The man says. “What do you wish for me to do?”

“I want you to send word to Tywin Lannister. Ask him for permission to bring Emmon to the Twins. The man will be nothing but a problem unless he is dealt with. Tell him you have proof enough, that the man is conspiring something or the other. Tywin Lannister, I believe has never liked his goodbrother. He will want any reason to be rid of him. Do this for me and then we shall move forward.” Robb says.

Black Walder nods. “Yes Your Grace. Though would Emmon Frey be the right target, considering it is Petyr Baelish who is command of Harrenhal?”

“That is the next stage. Once Emmon is gone, Tywin will trust you more, Harrenhal is there for the taking. I want you to look into that, find out what you can about Baelish and ensure that you have enough to see him brought down.” Robb responds.

“Of course Your Grace. I shall do so with great haste.” The man replies.

“Good. Now leave me.” Robb says.


	4. Desires

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

The war was not over with, despite what his grandson and daughter might think. So long as Stannis Baratheon remained alive, there was always going to be trouble. The man was sat on Dragonstone yes, but there would be a time when he would rally himself and his men once more and set sail. Of course, if the Redwyne Fleet actually got to King’s Landing in time, the man would be dealt with. That was not what concerned Tywin though, no, he was more concerned about how easily the Riverlords had bent the knee following the wedding at the Twins. And it was this that he decided was most important.

“Something is happening within the riverlands. What I do not know, but there most definitely is something occurring. They bent far too easily, there should be more of a struggle, more than just Blackwood should be remaining defiant.” He says to his brother Kevan.

Kevan, whose son is dying, looks at him with hooded eyes. “What more could they possibly have to fight for? Their king is dead, their liege lord is a prisoner and as such their armies are destroyed. Surely they mean what they say brother.”

Tywin looks at his brother and says. “The Riverlands has always been a divisive region, it was even more so when Aerys sat the throne. And yet that boy managed to unite them behind his cause for two years. For two whole years they fought behind his banner for a purpose. And now they are merely bending the knee without a fight, something is going on, but I do not know what it is.”

“Do you think they are playing for time, waiting to see if there might be something else they can do? Stark had a bastard brother at the wall did he not?” his brother asks.

“Indeed he did. A brother who as Eddard Stark’s son might feel honour bound to take up arms for a fallen cause. Of course the rivermen might well decide against siding with him. After all he is an insult to their former lady’s memory. Though should the Young Wolf have declared him the sign of their struggle, I can see them making plans there. Of course, there is the Lady Sansa as well.” Tywin says.

“Lady Sansa? Why would they wish to use her? She is married already, she gains them nothing but more Lannister influence. That might be what they wish to avoid.” Kevan says.

“My son has yet to find the strength or the will to consummate his marriage, it is very much an open secret, one that anyone within the city might spread out of it. The Riverlords no doubt are aware of this, Baelish himself has friends within the riverlands, and they might be seeking to use that to their advantage.” Tywin muses.

“Baelish, is he not going to the Vale? To bring Lady Lysa to heel?” Kevan asks.

“Yes but the man is a snake, and snakes can slither from one party to the next. I intend to recall him from the Vale once he is married. It is time we asked him a few testing questions, about the finances of the realm and about Jon Arryn.” Tywin responds.

“Jon Arryn? Why Jon Arryn? Whatever he was looking into, surely it was more related to the fact that his own wife was cuckholding him than anything to do with Cersei and the children?” Kevan enquires.

“From what Pycelle has told me, he began looking into the Baratheon family and Robert’s own bastards after speaking with Stannis Baratheon. Stannis’s accusations no matter how untrue have caused this war, and as such, I mean to ask Baelish what he knows of it. After all he was the one who led Stark to the same conclusions.” Tywin replies.

“Why would Baelish want this though? Why would he want something like the war to happen? How could it benefit him?” Kevan asks.

“The man thrived on his anonymity before Eddard Stark came to King’s Landing. He rose through the ranks because of his skill and his mind, and yet if one were to look through all that he has done, he has left a trail behind. He was good in Gulltown, but not excellent, he was good enough that Jon Arryn felt compelled to bring him to the capital, where he was once more good enough but not excellent and yet he ended up becoming master of coin. His success has relied on the Tully girl, Lysa supporting him, and promoting him. Pycelle has said that they were extremely close at court, and as such she spent more time with him than her own husband. Though Baelish always spoke of the two Tully girls when he spoke of them at all. He mentioned Lady Stark the most. It would not be too far to suggest he wanted her.” Tywin suggests.

“You mean he started all of this for a girl? Truly?” his brother asks surprised.

“I would not be surprised. The man has lusted after power his whole life from what my research suggests. He would be the one looking forward to bringing her to him and her son to heel. Furthermore, before the marriage to Tyrion, he offered himself for the Stark girl. A move that suggests even more hunger for power. He is a threat that must be well dealt with.” Tywin replies.

“What are you suggesting then brother? Baelish is within the Vale, and who knows when he might return.” Kevan states.

“He will return if forced to. He owns several properties within the city, should those be seized, his income will be threatened, his good name at risk. If he is the man I think he is, he will come running back to get them. That is when we shall have him.” Tywin supplies.

His brother looks at him a moment and then says. “An excellent play brother. I shall see to it straight away.”

* * *

 

**Riverrun**

**Lord Edmure Tully**

It felt strange, looking at his wife and knowing that she was part of the reason why this whole thing had come to pass. She was meant for Robb, truly meant for him, Walder Frey had said as much, she had even said as much. There was a deep sense of anger within him as he looked at her, and then he looked at the head of her family Black Walder Frey, the new Lord of the Crossing and he sighs. He knows he cannot do anything about her now, and so he sits down and gestures for them both to sit.

“You have brought word from His Grace I presume?” Edmure asks.

“Yes I have.” Black Walder says. “He requests that you continue on with your marriage to Roslin for the time being, he knows this is not the best of times, but it is necessary to keep up appearances.”

Edmure looks at his wife and then back at the imposing man before him. “Is she not mean to remain at the Twins then my lord? For I thought the Lannisters were not to know of this ruse?”

“The Lannisters have confirmed that Roslin can venture to Riverrun, and that you might be returned to the castle. Of course, my idiot great uncle shall be coming for the ceremony with his wife and children and so you must make it seem as though you are returning.” Black Walder says.

“Wait they are coming here?” Edmure exclaims. “To my home?!”

“Yes, they are coming here, and then they shall be dealt with.” The man looks at Roslin then and then at him.

Edmure seeing this merely nods. “I shall have Maester Vyman show her to her room.” He stands up then and calls for the maester who comes hurrying in, the man leads Roslin away and once she is gone Edmure sits down looking expectantly at Black Walder.

The man nods and then goes on. “They shall be arrested by men for conspiring to commit treason with Stannis Baratheon. Emmon was promised Riverrun following the wedding, and yet Tywin has gone back on his word. Knowing my uncle it is not too much of a guess to say that he has been doing something. More than likely his wife is looking for some way to get at her brother. This is the perfect way to remove a threat and ensure you are secure here.”

“And you are certain the king approves of this?” Edmure asks sceptically.

“The king created this plan. It is all working towards the greater goal which you heard at the Twins my lord. Trust me in that the king is doing this for us all. It is necessary for Tywin Lannister to fully believe that this is all happening as it seems. Blackwood is doing what he thinks is right but sooner or later he shall begin to wonder why none else are rebelling. That is where you must come in.” the man says.

“I must?” Edmure asks surprised. “How? What role can I play in that?”

“Your family still has influence over the minor lords of the realm. They are the ones who were most outspoken during the course of the war. Speak with them, convince them that to rebel against the throne is in their interest. If there is something for him to focus on Tywin Lannister will not look suspiciously at the rest of us.” Black Walder says.

“You want me to use my influence over the lesser lords to set them up for a slaughter?” Edmure asks horrified. “Why? What will this gain me, or the king other than hatred?”

“It will give the king the ground he needs to begin his plan. The lords need something otherwise they will wonder. And if they begin to wonder they will begin to question. Questions require answers, defiance does not.” Black Walder says, and though it is him speaking, Edmure can hear Robb’s tone through him. “You must do this to ensure that all that has been sacrificed is not in vain.”

“Why is he asking this of me? Why does he not do it himself?” Edmure opines. “Why not ask it of you? You are the one who is head of the Freys now, surely you have enough power to make sure this happens?”

“You are the Lord of Riverrun, and as such you have more weight to your name than I do. The king must remain in the shadows for now. Things must be in place before he comes to face them.” Black Walder says.

Edmure looks at the man and sighs. “Very well, I shall do as he asks. And what of you, will you do as planned and head to King’s Landing for the wedding?”

The man nods. “I will. My presence has been requested, and with what is being made of the wedding, it might perhaps be for the best that I go.”

“How do they not know of what is happening here? Where are their spies?” Edmure asks.

At this the man gives him a very sly smile and says. “Spies are easily found when one is Lord of the Twins my lord. I know just what needs to be done with those who would give away valuable information. They are either dead or on their way to greet the stranger. Tywin Lannister needs to trust my word, for I am my great grandsire’s heir, and if he does not, then he has chaos, and that, that is not something he wants.”

 _But it seems like something my nephew wants. Gods Robb, what happened to you?_ Edmure wonders. Aloud he merely says. “Well then, now that we have that issue dealt with, is there anything else I can offer you? Are you staying?”

“No, alas I must head from here to Harrenhal. There is much and more that must be done before one can settle easily into a role.” The man replies, he stands and Edmure stands with him, they shake hands and before the man turns to leave Edmure looks at him and hears him say. “Your marriage to Roslin need not last for very long, the king knows how to reward those loyal to him.” Edmure feels a shiver run down his spine as he watches the man walk out of the room.


	5. Northern Barbarians

****

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. Karhold**

**Arnolf Karstark**

Winter was here, the snow on the ground was white, a pale white, so very pale, like death. The death that had befallen the north since the wedding of a southerner to a Frey. He deeply resented the blood that had been shed, resented that Bolton was dead and that his bastard now dared to give orders, as if the bastard himself could bring power. There were Freys coming toward Winterfell, the mere thought angered Arnolf and yet he knew not what to do, and so he called a meeting, his sons and grandsons were here, as were his cousins. He looked about them and saw the same haggardness in their eyes as he felt.

Clearing his throat he spoke. “We all know why we are here. We cannot allow Bolton’s bastard to gain anything but the Dreadfort. We will never live that down if we do differently.”

“But do we not owe it to the Baratheons to do as they have asked?” his son Cregan asks. “After all they have named Ramsay Snow a Bolton and named him Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North it is for us to do this now, we must continue what we started.”

Arnolf looks at his son and sighs. “We cannot go with the bastard. Roose was one thing, his bastard is quite another. The boy has no sense of propriety he will bring us all down to the seven hells if we work with him.”

“Then what? We do not have the strength to beat him and the Ryswells and the Dustins. I am sure they will fight for him.” Cregan says.

“Don’t be a fool Cregan,” Arnolf’s second son Arthor says. “Dustin hates Bolton’s bastard because of what he did to her nephew. And the Ryswells will do whatever Dustin does. You can be certain that the bastard will get no support there.”

“Then we become oath breakers for a second time?” Cregan says his voice filled with disgust. “I’d rather not.”

“What would you have me do then Cregan?” Arnolf asks contemptuously. “Side with a man who all know to be mad? Or to fight for a man who worships a fire breathing demon? No, I will not do that. I would rather fuck an Arryn than do that.”

“Then we would be no better than the Freys or the Boltons father!” his son says. “Surely you can see that?”

“There is another way in which we can keep our position, or perhaps even better it.” Arnolf says his eyes gleaming. “Bolton’s wife is said to be coming north, or rather his intended. The supposed Arya Stark, we can see whether or not this wins us favours with those who would fight for one of Lord Eddard’s children.”

“You mean to use a little girl for your plans father?” his eldest son asks incredulously.

“Oh do not look so askance Cregan. You would marry the girl and become Lord of Winterfell, and furthermore, we hold kinship with the Starks through many generations, there are few who would oppose us compared to those who oppose Bolton’s bastard.” Arnolf replies.

His son looks doubtful. “What of the girl’s bastard brother? He would surely come south, especially if Mormont and Glover have their way. We cannot count on them to support us.”

“Pah. The bastard is a man of the Night’s Watch, he will not be moving anywhere. Furthermore, Glover and Mormont are more than likely dead. Gods alone know what those Freys might have done to them when things were happening at that wedding.” Arnolf says dismissively.

Arthor speaks then. “Who would fight alongside us father? Dustin and Ryswell have reason to hate Bolton’s bastard, but they have no reason to love us. Cousin Rickard tried to hard to bring the Starks to his side on far too many disputes. The Hornwoods have no lord, Cerwyn is ruled by a lady and the Tallharts, and they are under Ironborn scrutiny. Our list of allies runs thin. Furthermore, we do not even have lordship of Karhold. Harrion is still alive, until he is dead we cannot lay claim to anything.”

Arnolf looks at his son, studies him and then says. “You are not wrong, and yet we all know feeling runs strong for Eddard Stark and his son the Young Wolf. We cannot allow such a thing to go to waste. We can find the girl and bring her to our own person, then we can do as we please. I do not think those you have mentioned would dare cross us if we have their precious lord’s little girl.”

“What of Harrion?” his son persists. “So long as he lives, he is a tool to be used against us.”

Arnolf sighs, he finds his son’s constant questioning quite tiring. “Stannis Baratheon is coming north, he needs men to fight for him. We shall declare for him and see Harrion executed, and then you shall marry Alys, once that deed is done, then we shall make our move.”

“Would that not merely raise more suspicion?” his son asks. “To claim for Stannis and then to betray him? Not all are as thick as the Umbers father, they would see through this ruse of yours with relative ease. We would not be trusted with Arya Stark, if it is indeed Arya Stark.”

Arnolf looks at his son and says. “You speak truly son, but you forget one thing. When dealing with a Bolton, especially this Bolton, all will look for a more viable option. They will look for the option that maintains order, for we are a people who like things as they are. The presence of a Stark allows that. Nothing else does. That is where we shall venture forth, as the beacon in the darkness.”

His son is silent a moment and then he asks. “When do you plan on doing this?”

Arnolf looks at Arthor for a long moment and then smiling says. “It has already begun Arthor. The plan is in place, now we must make haste. Baratheon shall be here soon enough.”

* * *

 

**The Twins**

**Robb Stark**

The throne of the Twins was comfortable, it seemed the Freys had a habit of indulging in comfort. He was glad of that now, for his back was aching something fierce. The throne and its cushions allowed for some comfort, and for something to distract his mind from the grief that threatened to come pouring forward. Grief for his mother, and for those slain during this war, he could not allow it to come pouring forward, for to allow that would to allow his grasp on power to fall. He needed to continue as is, otherwise another Jeyne would come forward to destroy him.

“Word has come from Harrenhal has it not?” he asks.

“It has Your Grace.” Dacey Mormont a trusted companion says.

“What word does our Black weasel have for us?” he asks.

There is a moment’s silence and then. “It seems Petyr Baelish is making no move whatsoever to come to claim his seat Your Grace. He is content to allow Gregor Clegane and the Brave Companions to rule the roost there for him.”

Robb snorts. “The man it seems acquires power and then squanders the very symbols of that power. More fool him. He is in the Vale is he not? Hoping to wed my whore of an aunt?”

“Yes Your Grace. It seems that he has been sent there to prevent any involvement whatsoever from the Vale.” Dacey replies.

Robb snorts once more. “Well he is not like to find it hard. From what my uncle told me, the woman was always after that man. more fool her, when we are done here, I am like to have a fair few words with her.” he pauses a moment and then a thought of his mother comes to mind, the grief  is crushing but he shakes his head and suppresses it. Turning to look at Dacey he says. “What word has there been from our uncle in Riverrun?”

“It seems Your Grace, that Emmon Frey and his wife are coming to formally recognise the surrender of Riverrun, and its return to the Tullys. Tyrion Lannister shall be attending the ceremony as well.” Dacey says.

There is a long pause then, Robb considers this a moment and looks about the hall, to see expectant faces. “Will his wife be with him?” he asks.

“It seems not. Black Walder writes that the Lady Sansa is to remain behind.” Dacey replies, and then she seems to hesitate a moment.

“Go on my lady, it seems you have more to say. I would hear it.” he replies.

“Your Grace, Black Walder writes that Prince Tommen and Lady Sansa seem to be very close, overly so.” Dacey responds.

Robb looks at the woman who has become a friend, a companion in arms, and mulls this over. “How close?” he asks.

“Very, there are rumours about them at court. They claim they are like Robert Baratheon and Lady Lyanna come again.” Dacey says.

“Let us see how close they can get.” Robb replies. He pauses a moment and then says. “I trust Ser Walder, that you remember your part in this plan?”

Walder Rivers, who had aided in the wedding, speaks then. “Of course Your Grace. I know the role I am to play when these fools come.”

“Good,” Robb responds. “I want you to leave within the week, head toward Riverrun with all haste. Be there before your brother gets there, and make sure he does not leave alive.”

“Yes Your Grace.” Walder Rivers replies before he turns and walks out of the hall.

Robb then turns his attention back to Dacey. “Now tell me, what word has there been from the north?”

“There has Your Grace. It seems Ramsay Snow continues to flounder without much support. The Ryswells and the Dustins ignore his pleas for aid, and are instead content to remain within their own lands. The Umbers and the Mountain Clans are preparing to march south to fight Snow and finish him once and for all. The Karstarks, now they are plotting one thing or another. It seems they have declared for Stannis Baratheon, and are preparing march on the Dreadfort as well.” Mormont says.

“Baratheon is in the north?” Robb asks.

“It seems he is heading there. It seems the Night’s Watch is asking for aid against a threat from beyond the wall, and with the north being in chaos, the man thinks he can be that aid.” Mormont replies.

“Baratheon will never make it to the north. Not in time anyway.” Robb says.

“Should we not go and aid them Your Grace?” Dacey asks tentatively.

“No. let the north fester for some time, let them fight and weaken themselves. When the time is right, only then shall we move from here, not before.” Robb responds firmly.

“Your Grace is wise to do so.” Ser Wendel Manderly says. “It is not yet the right time for the return of our gracious king. Let His Grace’s enemies kill one another with winter here, soon enough they shall all realise that a Stark is needed to hold the north. Not any Stark, but a male Stark. The King in the North.”

Cheers go up at this, and are like to go on, but Robb is in no mood for that today. He holds up a hand and the hall falls silent. Turning to look at one of his men he asks. “The girl you captured, who was she?”

“She…she claims to be Princess Arya Your Grace, but Harwin did say that she could not be. That she was not Princess Arya, because she did not hold herself as the princess would have done.” The man responds.

Robb looks at Harwin then and asks. “Who do you think the girl is Harwin?”

“I…I could not place her at first Your Grace, but, but now I believe I do know her.” Harwin responds.

“Who?” Robb asks his patience beginning to wane.

“Jeyne Poole Your Grace. Princess Sansa’s companion.” Harwin responds.


	6. Acoustics

**12 th Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

Tywin Lannister could not help wondering if there was something more to the news coming in from the north and the riverlands. To him it seemed all too co-ordinated for a region that had lost its king and had no sovereign to rule over it. Oh the throne had the north for now, but whoever came into power in the void that Bolton’s death had created, well that would most certainly be interesting. Tywin was not sure if he would be able to handle that though, since the Dornish had come, something within him had been acting up, his insides were not safe anymore. He needed to secure everything before death greeted him. That was why he had summoned his brother here, to discuss the realm.

“Bolton’s bastard sent word once more asking for more men to aid him. It seems thee Freys who came north were not seen past the neck. The cranongmen it appears have seen to them, as they were wont to do.” Tywin says matter of factly.

“That is good is it not, for it means that Bolton’s bastard is now more dependent on you for aid.” His brother Kevan replies.

“Indeed it does. And yet the thought of Bolton’s bastard sitting within Winterfell does something to my sensibilities. No, the sooner we can see him ended the better it will be. Karstark has sent word asking for permission to fight for Lady Arya Stark, and of course one would be smart to grant it.” Tywin replies.

“Karstark, do they not have some claim to Winterfell?” his brother asks.

“It is tenuous at best. And regardless the northmen would never fight for someone not related to Eddard Stark. His daughter allows for this to happen, and of course, the girl sent forward to play Arya Stark will never live past her wedding to the bastard. Nor will the bastard should all go to plan.” Tywin responds.

“Do you not think the Karstarks will look askance at this? Especially considering the rumours circulating about the lady Sansa?” his brother asks.

“Those rumours mean nothing. Especially if Tyrion does not have the mind to see the job done, I shall see to it myself.” Tywin says.

His brother looks at him surprised. “You would do that brother? I thought you would have no other but Joanna?”

Tywin knows his brother is merely asking a question, but he can feel his nerves fraying now. “I will do what is necessary to ensure the north belongs to us. If my son cannot do his duty, then it must as always fall to me to do it. I will not allow such an opportunity to go to waste.”

“There is always Prince Tommen, brother.” His brother says. “He is young and is said to be friends with Lady Sansa. Should Tyrion prove to be unwilling, I am sure Prince Tommen would be more so.”

“Tommen will serve another purpose. There will come a time when the Rock will need an heir that is his purpose. Unless Joffrey proves to be a greater fool than his father.” Tywin replies curtly.

“Seeing the way the king is acting, I think that might well come to pass brother.” Kevan says. “Of course the Tyrells will want their daughter married to him in that instance.”

“The Tyrells will take what we give them. They owe the fact that their heads are not on spikes to my patience. Mace Tyrell is a bumbling fool with no thought of the game. It is his mother who worries me more. And she is not taking well.” Tywin replies.

Kevan looks at him a long moment, and Tywin knows his brother is debating saying something, but thinks better of it, and instead turns his attention to another matter. “Genna has written from Riverrun asking for you to intercede on her behalf. She claims she was misled.”

“Genna always claims she has been misled. What happened at Riverrun was most unfortunate, but it had to happen. We cannot be associated with the Freys, not after what they did at Edmure Tully’s wedding. And I did say in Joffrey’s name that the Tullys would get their revenge.” Tywin says.

“You do not think it is a bit suspicious that they were attacked and their men killed when the surrender was to happen, and yet Daven was not taken prisoner?” Kevan asks.

“Daven was not taken prisoner, because whoever organised this attack, knew that he held more value alive and free than as a hostage. That is the only way they could ensure that whatever message it was they are trying to get across, reached my ears.” Tywin says.

“And message do you think that is brother?” Kevan asks, a hint of fear in his voice.

“That they were not done, whoever this is, and they know some things we would rather they did not, and the time for discussion is coming.” Tywin says, his voice calm, despite how nervous he feels.

“Do you think it could be the Starks?” his brother asks. “After all we know that there is something going on the Twins, Black Walder would not be coming to the capital if there was not.”

“The Starks are dead. Whether this is someone acting for the bastard I do not know. All I know is that the bastard must be brought before us before we can ensure the safety of Lady Sansa’s travel with a Lannister escort.” Tywin responds.

His brother looks at him a moment and then responds. “Is the bastard truly that much of a threat brother? He swore vows to the watch, he cannot go anywhere without his brothers trying to kill him. Thorne would make sure of that.”

Tywin considers this a moment and then says. “So long as the bastard lives, he remains a focal point for dissension to Tyrion’s rule in the north. I cannot and will not allow that. He must die before they can go north.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Tyrion Lannister**

Ah it felt good to be out in the open, away from the toxic atmosphere of Maegor’s Holdfast. Away and standing, remaining true and tall, well not tall so much as true. Tyrion had not felt so happy in a long time, not since Tysha and the secret he had learned there and then. But it would not do, to think on that now. No, Tyrion was more content to spend the time with his nephew, and his wife. Looking at them, he wished he could find someone to care for him as much as Sansa clearly cared for Tommen.

“Well my prince, pray tell me what wonders you have discovered in your lessons.” Tyrion says looking intently at his nephew.

Tommen, unlike Joffrey, has always been happy to share, and so he says. “I learned about Daeron the Good today. About how he brought Dorne into the realm peacefully, something that his father, and cousin could not do. And I learned about the heavy price he paid.”

“A heavy price indeed. He saw his brother die fighting and one of them lived in exile. And yet he gained something more precious from his marriage to Dorne. He gained a wife he loved, and children he cherished.” Tyrion says, looking and seeing the look passing between his nephew and wife. He feels nothing but pity for them.

“Aye, he was a good king. But his methods were sometimes lacking. He preferred words to force, and during the time he lived, that might not have always been the smartest thing to do.” His nephew says.

“And what would you have done during his reign nephew? He had troubles true enough, but he was smart enough to realise when perhaps a hard word was better than shoving a sword down someone’s throat.” Tyrion says.

“Words are no good without showing you mean to force the issue. King Daeron never did that, and he suffered a Blackfyre rebellion for it. And his heir died because of his leniency toward his mad grandson.” His nephew says.

Tyrion looks at his nephew, truly looks at him, and sees the way his nephew’s eyes continuously dart toward Sansa, Tyrion knows he should feel some sort of jealousy, but all he wants is to go to the High Septon and ask for their marriage to be annulled. Instead he merely says. “It is not always easy to go against family, even when you know they are wrong. If it were easy, Joffrey would not get away with as much as he does.”

His wife gasps then. “You cannot say such a thing out loud, Tyrion. If the eunuch were to hear you, there would be trouble.”

Tyrion takes a deep sip of wine and then turns to his wife and says. “What of it? The eunuch will not do anything about this if he knows of it. Why, who do you think it is who has been spreading rumours about the king? The spider of course.”

“The Spider has spreading those vile lies about Joffrey?” Tommen asks. “But why, how do you know this, and how have you not gone before the council to discuss them?”

“He does it because it suits whatever it is he wants. And I have not gone before the council, because I am not like to be believed. I have reason enough to despise Joffrey, for him to accuse me of working with the damned eunuch. No, I have mentioned them to you, because the council will believe you more than me.” He pauses then. “That is of course if you want to go before the council.”

He sees his nephew hesitate then. “Ah, you still hold a fear of what your grandfather will say. Come now Tommen, you cannot fear him so. He is just a man, and you did better on the council than anyone else, when I was hand.”

“But that’s the thing though, Joffrey attends council more, now that grandfather is here. And what’s there to say he would not do to me as he wants done to you?” Tommen asks.

“Surely Joffrey is not as rash as that? To go after his own family? That would only make the Tyrells smell blood. For one thing, I know Margaery would jump at the chance to spread discord.” Sansa says, surprising them all including herself with her observation.

“What makes you think that?” Tyrion asks.

His wife is silent a moment and then she replies. “They are playing a game, the Tyrells. They always have been. The way her brothers and family courted the people before she came here, the way she visits the sick and the needy. It is all a game, designed to win the people. Joffrey never does that, he is foolish enough to believe that his own name will allow him the people’s love. Queen Cersei is much like that as well.” His wife pauses then, and turns her attention to Tommen. “You aren’t like that Tommen. You know the value of people, you are kind, and caring. Joffrey would be a fool to go for you.”

Tyrion smiles at the way his nephew blushes and says. “Why my lady, I did not know you were so observant. Tell me, what more do you know about the court?”

His wife is hesitant then, but she proceeds when Tommen smiles at her, Tyrion feels a lurch and then the beginnings of a plan forming. “I know that there are factions developing. It seems the Tyrells are trying to win the nobles over to their cause, and some are going willingly. The lords of the Crownlands remain resistant, but not for too long.”

“And what makes you say that?” Tyrion asks interested.

“They have always been loyal to the dragons, but have resented Tyrell influence. They were loyal to Robert because of who he was, but Joffrey, Joffrey inspires nothing but fear.” Sansa says.

“And a monarch who inspires fear, is no good whatsoever, when it comes down to it.” Tommen says sagely.

Tyrion claps his hands then. “Excellent, truly excellent.” _Now if only this wedding could come sooner._


	7. Inspiration Of The Divine

**12 th Month of 299 A.C.  Castle Black**

**King Stannis I Baratheon**

They all thought he was done for, beaten, despoiled, destroyed, that was what the Lannisters were saying about him. The Blackwater had been a failure, a complete and utter failure, and yet there was hope yet. He was not done for just yet, there would be tension between the Lannisters and the Tyrells, and Stannis knew he need only wait for that to manifest itself before he could strike once more. First he needed men and that was why he was sailing for the north, determined to ensure some region supported him.

Looking at the boy who he intended to use to bring the north to him, Stannis marvelled at just how much Stark’s bastard was truly like him. “The Night’s Watch does not suit you Snow. A waste here, where they accuse of one crime and then another. Tell me what did you do beyond the wall?”

The bastard’s expression is pained then but his answer is honest enough. “I worked with the enemy and fought alongside them as well. I learned of their plans and their motives. I know they are not the true foe, no that foe is more dangerous and incomprehensible.”

“So they do exist then do they?” Stannis asks intrigued. “They are not the mere ramblings of a mad woman. Tell me how was it that you managed to stop Mance Rayder from attacking, or rather yet, why has he not yet attacked if indeed he was supposed to be attacking now?”

“I do not know Your Grace. All I know is that he said he would come, and he is not a man to break his word lightly. But that is not why you have asked me here is it Your Grace?” the bastard responds.

Stannis nods. “Indeed it is not, I have summoned you here to ask you something. The north is in chaos, we both know that. Bolton’s bastard fights one enemy, and the Karstarks are fighting another enemy. There are Ironborn in Deepwood Motte and in various other places in the north, there is no strength, no solidarity within the north anymore. Not since your brother died. He might well have been a traitor, but he kept this realm together. Now there are no more Starks in the north, and it is dying. I cannot afford that to happen, not if I want my throne. And so I need a Stark.”

“There Starks within Barrowton and White Harbour Your Grace. They would come to fight for you, especially with Winterfell there for the taking.” the bastard responds.

“Pah. Do not play me for a fool Snow, we both know that no Northman would follow such Starks, they are too low down the fighting order to matter.” Stannis responds.

“Then I do not know where you will find your Stark, Your Grace. My brothers are all dead, my sisters are either hostages or missing. There is nothing left for you here. Why did you come here at all?” the bastard asks forlornly

Stannis grits his teeth and responds. “Do not speak such nonsense, there is a Stark left, he might not be a trueborn Stark but he is still a son of Eddard Stark and he sits before me.”

It takes a moment for what he has said to be digested, and then the bastard responds. “You do not mean me Your Grace? Surely not. I have sworn a vow to the Night’s Watch. I will take no land and no title, no wife and sire no children. I will not abandon the Watch.”

“You cannot truly wish to remain here Snow.” Stannis responds incredulously. “It is clear the Watch does not want you here, and whatever oaths you made were done when there was no more choice for you. Surely you would not want the north and Winterfell to remain in chaos as it is now? Surely you want to avenge the deaths of your father and brothers?”

“What I want is immaterial. I swore a vow.” the bastard responds.

“And I swore a vow to Aerys Targaryen, and yet I continued fighting for my brother during the rebellion.” Stannis snaps back, his patience beginning to wane.

“That is different, you were not sworn to the Night’s Watch, I am.” the bastard responds. “Besides, even if I do agree, the lords would never respect me. I would be seen as a deserter from the Night’s Watch, and that, that is something not everyone would respect or like.”

“So you do not wish to avenge the wrongs that were done to your family? You do not want to gain some measure of right from the wrongs the Lannisters have done to you?” Stannis asks probing.

The bastard looks at him with such loathing, Stannis feels like smacking him. “Winterfell is Sansa’s, it is my sister’s right with our brothers dead.”

“Pah, so you want a Lannister in Winterfell? Whatever happened to having some steel? Your father would never have allowed what is going on in the north to happen.” Stannis says bitingly.

“You did not know my father. He is dead now, what he would have done is immaterial.” the bastard replies, though Stannis can tell he is lying.

“Very well, on your head be it. Do not let it be said that I did not try.” Stannis responds. With that he dismisses the bastard and is left alone to sit and brood. After a few moments Melisandre walks in. “He did not accept the offer, unlike what you predicted he would do.”

“He needs some time to think over what you have offered him Your Grace. I am sure with enough time he shall say yes.” Melisandre replies.

“And if he does not? What then?” Stannis asks. “Already, Manderly has given me some excuse as to why he cannot declare for me, the Karstarks have declared for me but I suspect they want something more from this. If he does not accept the offer, I am finished.”

“Have faith that the Lord of Light will give you what you want, for you are his chosen one.” The red woman replies coming closer toward him.

* * *

 

**White Harbour**

**Lord Wyman Manderly**

Winter, it was coming as certain as his own death was. Wyman knew that, had always known that. He had always known that what he and Rickard had done that long ago day would come back to haunt them, and it had. The Red Wedding so many dead, so many lost, and why, because Rickard’s son and grandson had been too honourable to realise when to step closer toward the line. It was a shame really, but there was hope yet, there was always hope, Rickard’s luck had not yet run out, and Wyman was determined to take full advantage of that.

“Tell me again how much does the boy know?” Wyman asks.

The man he is speaking to, Robett Glover takes a moment to compose himself and then says. “He knows that the boys separated after leaving Winterfell, and that Bolton’s bastard was to blame for what happened. He also knows that after leaving Winterfell, the little one and the wildling woman went east, Far East, to where there are remenants of their people.”

Wyman nods. “And how certain are you Robett that this is exactly what happened?”

“The men I sent out to look into what the boy has given us, found some proof that there had been a hut set up, and they found the remenants of a fire. The boy and the woman had most certainly been there sometime recently.” Robett responds.

“Why would they not have come to White Harbour?” Wyman wonders, and then answers his own question. “Of course, the woman would not know what sort of welcome to expect, and I suppose the boy’s brother would not be thinking of such things. How far do the trails suggest they went?”

“As far as the Bone Hills, where the savages dwell my lord. That is what the men I sent out told me.” Robett responds.

“Good. That means they would not have gone far. Of course we shall need to tread carefully now, what with Bolton’s bastard trailing around the area like a mad man, and the Karstarks playing some game of their own. And now with Stannis Baratheon here, the north will become a token of focus of Tywin Lannister.” Wyman says.

“Do you think it might be wise to send a rider southward? To let them know?” Robett asks.

“I believe your brother would have already done that Robett,” Wyman says. “Of course one does have to wonder where the boy’s older brother went with Lord Howland’s children. Why did he not come here himself? There are too many things going on here that are not clear.”

“There is most definitely something strange about what happened before Winterfell was sacked. Theon Greyjoy doing what he did, whilst treason makes sense, the boy never had much sense. But the Reed children, I do not know, there is something else going on there, and I am not sure what it is.” Robett responds.

“You think they are playing some game? I do not think so, I do not think that Howland would willingly send his children off to Winterfell with some ulterior motive.” Wyman responds. _He is not his father at the very least, Jonos Reed most certainly did that with Howland._

“But we know hardly anything about Howland, my lord. The man did not leave Greywater Watch after the rebellion for anything. I find that passing odd.” Robett responds.

“And I am sure the people of White Harbour find it odd that I have allowed you some measure of privacy despite being a condemned man.” Wyman responds.

“And what will you do when Davos Seaworth comes? You might not have any Freys to worry about, but Tywin Lannister will most certainly hear about what happens here.” Robett responds.

Wyman looks at the man then and says. “My maester shall not be long for this world. Tywin Lannister has promised the return of my son, and I shall ensure that he is home before Maester Theomore is dead.  I will not allow him to remain here skulking like some sort of informant, in what is a true Northman’s court.”

“Surely you will need to remove him before you send someone out to look for the boy? After all, the moment those riders leaver, people will begin speaking. The mere fact that the Freys did not arrive here at White Harbour is causing some concern.” Robett responds.

“And we have Black Walder Frey to thank for their nonappearance. I do think that is something of a boon. Having any Frey here would have been an insult to King Robb, without the permission from the south of course.” Wyman says.

“Do you think Tywin Lannister knows?” Robett asks.

“He must know, the man did not achieve what he has without suspecting something or the other. Regardless he has not the evidence to form an accusation on.” Wyman responds. “And of course the Karstarks will be looking toward him, desperate to try and improve their standing.”

“What will Arnolf Karstark do when he realises just how much trouble he truly is in?” Robett asks.

“Panic, no doubt.” Wyman responds. “That is what he is good at. This whole ploy of his, is a sign that he is panicking, he will not make a move until it is too late, and when he does, it shall come crashing down around him. The Karstarks have ever been fated to be second to the Starks.”

“Do you truly believe that is what he was hoping to achieve?” Robett asks.

“Without a shadow of a doubt. Karstark is worse than his nephew, at least his nephew knew somewhat how to hide his ambition. Arnolf shows his emotions on his face, and his actions speak louder than his words. His attempt to seize whatever girl it was that was sent here to be the bastard’s bride shows he wants Winterfell. And now that that plan has failed, he will look for other ways.” Wyman responds.

“What will you do?” Robett asks.

“I shall bring the Starks back, and end this farce once and for all.” Wyman responds.


	8. Of The North

****

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. Barrowton**

**Lady Barbrey Dustin**

There were no more Starks that was a strange thought for Barbrey, a woman who had loved a Stark, hated a Stark and manipulated a Stark. A very strange thought. And now the North was in chaos, she had never believed that the north could not function without a Stark had always believed it to be some sort of scary story told by the Starks to increase their power, but now, now she saw that it was true. That worried her, it worried her a lot. She did not like it, but she knew that something had to be done about it, this chaos could not go on.

“What word has there been from the western coast?” She asks.

Her father the great Lord Rodrik Ryswell, a man who had been desperate for her to wed a Stark, and now a man considering becoming a king, is slow to respond. “The Ironborn continue to hold Deepwood Motte and the Glovers are foundering for ground. It seems that their new king is not so willing to continue expending resources there.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Do you not think that could be one way of ensuring that our plans go accordingly?” she asks.

Her father is silent a moment and then he responds. “We do not know where Galbert Glover is and whilst we know Robett is at White Harbour, that man has no love for us. And we have no love for him. I would rather not give my enemy the hands of such a vaunted prize. The more the Glovers suffer the more we can play that to our advantage.”

Barbrey looks at her father then and says. “You are still considering expanding your lands then? Do you seriously think they will discuss terms with you?”

“I do not know, but we shall never know unless we try. I am tired of seeing other houses grow to power whilst we remain subservient. We were once kings, we are descended from Kings, it is only right that we take what is rightfully ours. The Starks are gone, we must take full use of the situation.” her father states.

“What then of your alliance with Ramsay Bolton. The bastard has been too busy fighting the Karstarks to truly come asking, but he will come sooner rather than later. What will you do then?” Barbrey asks.

“I shall do to him what the Freys did to the Stark boy. I will not allow him anywhere near my hall or hearth. The bastard is mad and being associated with such a taint is not something I want.” her father says.

It is at this moment that her brother and her father’s heir Roger speaks. “We cannot play it so openly though father. Bolton’s bastard has got some support that is true, but the Karstarks have gotten more, and they are fighting for a king, a man crowned and named as king. Stannis Baratheon will be a dangerous foe, especially with the Karstarks on his side.”

Barbrey snorts then. “If you truly think the Karstarks are working for Stannis Baratheon, you are sorely mistaken brother. Arnolf Karstark will be using this as a chance to get Winterfell. He has always wanted that damned castle and now he shall get it one way or another.”

“He might find that a bit difficult.” her brother says smiling slyly.

“What do you mean by that?” Barbrey questions.

“It seems that Lord Wyman has come across an Ironborn boy who was in Winterfell when it was sacked. And it seems this boy has given him reason to believe that there is one Stark boy still alive. That is what he has been doing all this time.” her brother responds.

“Impossible, Theon Greyjoy had the Stark boys killed and their heads mounted on spikes on Winterfell’s walls. There are more than half a dozen witnesses to that crime.” Barbrey retorts.

“And who was it that told that truth as it were, in the first place dear sister?” her brother questions. “Why the Dreadfort, the house that has always envied the Starks their power and prestige. Bolton’s bastard had been snooping around for months after Lord Eddard went south doing things the old gods only know what. And now he is struggling to hold it all together, and that is the reason why.”

Barbrey considers this a moment and says. “That boy, whichever one it is, would be a very valuable asset to have. Whoever has the boy would have the north.”

“Exactly, which is why Wyman Manderly has remained so silent on the matter. It would not do for word of this to get outside of White Harbour. Of course there are some things that the man does not know within his own city. For one his maester has long been in my pay and as such reports most if not all the goings on of court. And it is no secret within the merman’s court of what Wyman Manderly intends to do.” Roger states.

Before she can speak her father cuts in. “That is neither here nor there. The boy would be half wild and savage at that. If it is the one I am thinking of, the other one is a cripple. Little to no use for anything other than being a figurehead. There is the bastard but he is sworn to the Night’s Watch, there must be some way of getting to him.”

Barbrey feels an old twinge then, when she thinks of the bastard. Ned Stark’s bastard, oh she knows things about that child she wished she could tell her family, but she swore not to. And she intends to keep that promise. Her hand rests briefly on her stomach and then she says. “The bastard was supposedly legitimised before his brother’s death was he not?”

“That is the rumour going around yes.” her father says curtly.

Barbrey looks at her father and smiles. “Then we take use of that, and bring the bastard to Barrowton.”

* * *

 

**Greywater Watch**

**Lady Maege Mormont**

Greywater Watch was a strange thing for Maege, even now after all these months. She did not know how it could operate in the way it did, and further still how people could continue to survive here on this damned moving castle. Of course Howland and his people had been of great help to her and their king, still she ached for Bear Island and for her girls, there were things that needed to be done now though, and she would not balk from her duty, she was not Jorah, she would not run now, not when destiny was calling her.

“Word has come from White Harbour my lords,” she begins. “It seems Wyman has finally begun actively searching for our king’s brothers.”

There is silence a moment and then Galbart asks. “And what is he doing to look for them? One would have thought that such a thing would have become a bit more pronounced knowing that fat man.”

Maege laughs slightly. “You truly do not give him enough credit Galbart. He is a clever man and he knows what he is doing. Riding parties are being sent out from White Harbour in order to find out more about a supposed bandit problem his bannermen have been speaking of. Of course we all have reason to suspect he is actually going to be going to the Haunted castle.”

“Why would they go there though? I do not understand.” Galbart says once more. “That castle has been abandoned for centuries, why go there now?”

“Because something obviously called them there. It is no great surprise to me that they would have gone there. It was a favourite haunt of the Old Man of the North and his eldest son, and the youngest boy is named after Rickon Stark, it makes some sense that he would go there.” Howland answers.

“How would he know where to go though?” Mage muses aloud. “He is but a babe, and that wildling woman would not know where to go unless someone else told her.”

“The wolf, it must have been the wolf. Something about those wolves has often made me wonder about where they come from and why. There must have been something pulling them there.” Howland responds.

“Or someone could well have led them there. Though why not simply take them to White Harbour is another thing. Could the other boy truly have suspected Lord Wyman that much?” Galbart asks.

“Truth be told can you blame him Galbart? He had just been forced from his home because of the actions of a man he grew up with, and another man who was supposedly nobody. His levels of trust must be quite low right now. And even then they would have been very low.” Maege responds.

The man nods. “True, very true. The king must be told of this.”

“He already has been, I sent word when the tidings came. His Grace shall know of it all soon enough.” Maege says.

There is a long moment of silence and then Galbart speaks. “What do you think has made the king decide on this course of action? Surely there must be a desire for revenge within him? The whole war was fought on that damned premise.”

Maege has no answer for that but it appears Howland does. “And what makes you think that by doing as he is doing, and by asking us to do as he has asked us, that he is not trying to get revenge?”

“Because he is hiding in the twins and is allowing his kingdom and his people to get torn into fighting a hopeless war amongst themselves.” Galbart responds.

“And when he returns, the north will heal. We all know that, the Starks are essential to ensuring the north’s peace. And the king is the only one who can truly bring that about. None else can, not his brothers, nor his sisters.” Howland states calmly.

“Howland’s right Galbart. The king knows what he is doing, we must try and ensure we do our roles to the best of our ability. The rewards will come.” Maege says.

Silence falls after that, and Mage finds herself thinking more about the Haunted Castle, no one knows where it is exactly, well no one apart from the Starks. For it seems that that is a tradition that all Starks know where the haunt of one of their greatest lords and his heir is. The heir who was taken far too soon, the heir whose death caused a struggle that is still being felt in the north to this day. She finds herself wondering at that, whether or not this struggle now could have been avoided if Rickon Stark had never gone to fight in Dorne. What troubles might have been averted had the young heir to Cregan Stark never gone south.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Galbart speaks once more. “Soon enough we shall need to deal with all that is happening and has happened within the north. Bolton’s bastard knows his supposed Stark bride is missing now. He will come looking for her, and with Baratheon here as well, gods alone know what he will do.”

“Baratheon cannot last long here. The Karstarks will betray him before he ever gets close enough to mount a sizeable challenge or even unite the north. The fact that Jon Snow refused his offer will dent his confidence and increase that of the Karstarks. Who knows what might come from that.” Maege states.

“Stannis Baratheon will fight, and he will fall, but whether that happens now or when the king returns I do not know. I do know one thing for sure. Regardless of what happens, that red witch of his will continue to be a problem.” Howland says.

“What do you know of her Howland?” Maege asks.

“That there is more to her than meets the eye, and that Stannis Baratheon is dealing with a force of nature that is more than I think he even truly realises.” Howland responds.


	9. For Whom The Bell Tolls

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Lannister**

The wedding was a pain, truly it was, she had sat through it all, first at the Great Sept where she had heard lies being spoken, and then during the luncheon that had followed, where evermore lies were told. It seemed as if this whole damned city lived on lies, the only person who it seemed did not was Tommen, her golden prince, and he had just celebrated his thirteenth name day, something Sansa had enjoyed quite a bit. But the fact that it happened on his brother’s wedding was somewhat of a dampener.

He still seemed happy though. “I do not know why you look so sad my lady. After all the festivities here are quite enough celebration I think for four namedays.”

Sansa smiles at her prince, her husband is somewhere else, where she does not know. “I merely think that you have been forgotten in all of this commotion. And considering what we know about the Lady Margaery and her intentions I’m not sure if that is such a good thing.”

As ever, her prince looks somewhat put out by the thought of the lady who is now Queen and his goodsister. “She is a nice girl, but there is something most definitely off about her. The walk we took with them the other day, it made wonder.”

“Made you wonder what my prince?” Sansa asks curiously.

“It made me wonder, the Tyrells helped keep the city when the blackwater happened, and yet they have not tried to exercise any of the power that they actually have. If they wanted to they could cripple us and there is naught that could be done about it. It makes me wonder, if there is something more they want.” her prince responds.

“What more could they want though?” Sansa asks. “Margaery will be queen, and any son she has by Joffrey will be the future king. They have all the cards, right now, we are all waiting for them to do something which they might never do.”

“But that is exactly the point.” Tommen states. “Why should they not do something like that? They have the cards, you, yourself have admitted as such, and yet, and yet there is more to this than meets the eye. Something is going on and I am not exactly sure what it is.”

A commotion reaches them then, as Sansa looks up and sees the king staggering drunkenly to his feet demanding her husband serve him as a cupbearer. Sansa does not pay attention to what is said, but judging by the look on Tommen’s face, it is not pleasant. “He should not speak like that to uncle Tyrion. It is not right.” her prince says.

“Forgive me, my prince.” She begins. “But Joffrey is not known for doing the right thing.”

Her prince sighs then. “I am sorry Sansa, truly I am, and if I could right the wrongs my brother has done to you, I would. But I cannot travel back in time.”

Sansa feels something in her then, her prince, her beautiful prince. She takes his hand under the table and says. “It is enough that you care Tommen, truly it is. I would not want for something else. I would not want someone else.”

Tommen looks at her forlornly then and she feels her heart ache. “But you are wed to my uncle Tyrion, and I know Joffrey. My brother would never think of offering you the chance to annul the marriage, not so long as it means he can continue to use you and my uncle against my grandfather.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I mean that, well, Joffrey has been saying somethings, some very unpleasant things as of late. And I do not know whether or not he means them or if they are just idle talk.” Tommen responds.

There is more commotion from the centre of the hall where it appears the king is tormenting her husband, she feels for Tyrion she truly does, but right now she is more curious as to what Tommen means. “What sort of things has he been saying?”

Her prince takes a deep sip of wine and then speaks. “He means to use you as a means to an end. To get the north and then to kill you when the deed is done.”

Sansa feels sick then, quite literally sick. She had known that Joffrey was cruel, but this, this is a new meaning to it. “I need some air.” she says standing up and walking out of the hall, none notice her though, for the commotion that is the king. Just as she gets to the door, she hears the sound of something hitting the floor, she turns around briefly and sees the King clutching at his throat, an awful noise coming from him.

The world seems to go still for a moment as they all watch Joffrey stutter and sputter and try to prevent something going wrong, and then something snaps and people are there trying to help him. Sansa takes one look at him and then she turns round and walks out of the room. This is her chance, she has been waiting for this moment for a whole year now. She walks and then she runs, out of her prison, she keeps going, and going. She does not look back once and for that she is relieved. She spent hours wondering if she could ever go through with this, and yet the moment she enters the godswood, she knows something is wrong. She cannot see anyone in the clearing, the bells begin ringing and she knows her tormenter is dead, but that gives her no comfort.

Something is happening here, something is changed, but what it is she does not know. She hears a rustling and then comes face to face with a hooded figure. “Who are you?” she asks.

The figure says nothing for a moment and then it comes up to her and whispers. “I am a friend of your brother’s and you must not leave.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, but then she feels something enter her system and the world goes black.

* * *

 

**Prince Tommen Baratheon**

His brother was dead, his brother was dead. No matter how many times he said the words in his head, it did not make sense. How could his brother be dead? It did not seem real, it seemed like a dream, like a dream that had turned sour. He could still hear his mother screaming, his grandfather barking orders, and his brother’s eyes staring up unseeingly at them all. He knew he would be haunted by it all till his dying breath. And now, well now here he was, sat as the adults argued.

“The dwarf and his little whore of a wife did this father. You must see that. Did you see the way he was goading Joffrey during the feast? It is clear to me that that was what he planned all along.” Tommen hears his mother say.

“And the girl, what role could she have played?” Tommen hears his grandfather ask.

“She was in on the plan, Pycelle has said that the thing used to remove Joffrey could not have been brought in without him knowing about it, unless it was concealed on a woman’s person. You saw the thing she was wearing, it had to have been them, and they worked together.” his mother says.

“A husband and a wife working together for this makes sense Tywin, after all neither had any reason to love Joffrey.” Ser Kevan says.

Before Tommen can speak there is a knock on the door, and Ser Meryn Trant walks in, he bows and then says. “The girl has been found my Queen. She was in the Godswood.”

“So the drunk was right. She was trying to flee.” Tommen hears his mother say. “Bring her here.”

Tommen looks at his mother then and sees a look of such triumph on her face he feels anger develop inside of him. “No.”

“No?” his mother asks looking at him.

“Ser Meryn take Lady Sansa to her rooms, allow her to rest.” he says, his voice brooking no argument.

“What?!” his mother exclaims. “She is a traitor, she committed a grave crime and assisted the dwarf in killing your brother.”

“You have no proof of that mother, and until you do, Lady Sansa is innocent of any wrong doing that uncle Tyrion may or may not have done. Ser Meryn take her to her rooms.” Tommen says.

“No!” his mother says firmly. “That whore is as guilty as her dwarf of a husband. She fled from the great hall when she saw that Joffrey had taken ill. Why else would she flee if she were not guilty?”

His anger is growing now. “Of course she damned well fled. We all know what would have happened had she been here when Joffrey did die. You would have had her arrested without seeing reason. She is innocent in all of this. Leave her out of your mad schemes and plots.”

“I am the Queen, and my word is law. If I say she is to be brought here, she shall be brought here.” his mother fumes.

Tommen looks at his mother then, his eyes blazing. “You forget yourself mother. Margaery became Queen after marrying Joffrey, but now that he is dead, she is a Queen Dowager just like yourself. Joffrey’s death made me the king, and my word is the law.” As he says this, he realises that he is the king, he can do as he pleases now.

His mother looks as if she has been slapped. “You would dare defy me? For her? A whore?”

“She is not a whore, but a lady. A lady who has value beyond what is between her legs.” Tommen snarls.

His mother goes to protest this, but then Lord Tywin speaks his voice commanding. “The king is correct Cersei. The girl is more use to us if she can sleep and relate what she believes happened without fear.”

His mother says nothing and so Tommen turns to Ser Meryn and says. “Take Lady Sansa to her chambers, tell her to rest and that I shall see her soon.” the Kingsguard knight nods and then walks off.

There is a long moment’s silence and then Tommen speaks once more. “The Tyrells will most definitely be looking for an excuse to see uncle Tyrion dead, and yet I am not sure that he was responsible for all of what happened today.”

His mother laughs at him then. “And what makes you think the dwarf is innocent? The fact that he is your uncle? Please, he has never liked Joffrey, and Joffrey never liked him. The dwarf’s behaviour today was shocking and he deserves nothing less than our full suspicion.”

Tommen glares at his mother. “Just because you do not like him does not mean he did it. And think about what you are saying mother. If uncle Tyrion did this, why would he allow himself to be caught?”

“Because he is a vain and proud man who wanted the world to see his crime.” his mother replies.

“You are allowing your hatred of him to come through mother,” Tommen states. “Uncle Tyrion is far too clever to allow something like that to dictate his decision. I do not think he did it, and if I do not think he did it, then he did not do it.”

“Why?” his mother asks.

“Because I am the king.” Tommen responds simply.

“Pah. You are a boy Tommen, you are not the king.” his mother replies.

“I am no younger than Joffrey was today. And yet you were willing to allow him free reign, why not me?” Tommen asks.

“Because your brother was always meant to be king. You, you are nothing compared to him.” his mother responds.

“Cersei enough.” his grandfather says.

“No grandfather, let us here what she has to say.” Tommen says.

He glares at his mother, anger raring inside of him, and his mother merely says. “You were never meant to be here, you were a mistake.” with that she stands and walks out, leaving Tommen crushed.  


	10. Swan's Goodbye

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. The Twins**

**Robb Stark**

“Say it again.” Robb demands.

The man Black Walder had sent north from King’s Landing looks at him nervously and then speaks. “King Joffrey, the bastard and ill born died at his own wedding, poisoned Your Grace. It seems the imp, Tyrion Lannister has been accused of committing the crime.”

He feels some satisfaction at that for a moment before asking. “And what of Lady Sansa? What befell her?”

The messenger looks nervous. “She was brought before the hand of the king and questioned. She was found innocent of any wrong doing.”

Robb nods. “Very well, you may go.” he watches the man bow and then depart. Once he is gone, Robb turns to his lords and lady and says. “The bastard Joffrey is dead. His brother will sit the throne as King, and soon we may move from the shadows.”

A small cheer goes up at this, but then Dacey asks. “Your Grace, what will you do now that the man is dead? Will you make for the north?”

Robb considers this a moment and looks around the hall, the throne he sits on is a pale imitation of what he knows rests in Riverrun, and as such he finds it funny that the Freys would find themselves worthy of being compared to kings. “We shall remain here for a time more. We must see what sort of King, Tommen Baratheon will be, and whether or not his mother, his grandfather or the roses hold the power at court. Things are to get very interesting in the south, and I mean to influence them.”

“But how can you do that from here Your Grace?” Ser Kyle Condon asks.

“Black Walder Frey will continue to serve his purpose in the south, as will my uncle Edmure. There are those within court at King’s Landing who would find it more interesting to play than to work, from what Frey has told me. I will take advantage of that, already there are those of mine in place to seek out offers and make promises.” Robb responds.

“And the Lady Sansa? What of her?” Dacey asks.

Robb feels something tighten in his gut then, Sansa, his sister, he has not done right by her, and he never knows how to approach that topic. Looking at Dacey, he suspects she knows just that. “I will make sure she is protected. Howland knows what to do there. He will not fail me.”

Dacey merely nods, and then Ser Kyle speaks. “What of the north then Your Grace? Will you allow Stannis Baratheon to continue onward through your lands and the lands of your people?”

Robb grits his teeth then to hold back the sharp retort that had been forming. Eventually he speaks. “I want word sent to the neck, tell Maege and Galbart to move out from the shadows. The bastard is dead and now it is time we begin working to reclaim what was taken from us. I want Deepwood Motte retaken and I want Torrhen’s Square retaken. Free the Tallharts of their captors. Ser Kyle, you shall take your men north and aid them in this.”

The knight nods and then asks. “And once that is done? What then Your Grace?”

“Then you shall wait in Torrhen’s Square for further orders. Stannis Baratheon and the Bastard of Bolton can exhaust their resources on one another.” Robb says.

There is a moment’s silence and Robb can sense the tension present in the air. Ronnel Stout speaks then. “Your Grace, forgive me for speaking out of turn. But do you not think the time has come for you to emerge from the darkness? Joffrey Waters is dead, his brother sits the throne now, now is the time to push for the terms we always wanted. Waiting will do us no good. Surely you must see that?”

Robb looks at the man, and merely says. “Joffrey might be dead, but the threats that he posed are not. So long as his mother remains there, the shadows are the best place for some of us to be right now. I am no coward, make no mistake, I mean to make a move and soon, but for now there are certain things I must do from the shadows.”

Ronnel Stout looks at him a moment and then says softly. “Your father would not have hidden from the threats, he would have fought them head on.”

“And what happened to my father Ronnel?” Robb says his voice ice. “He was executed because he stumbled and blundered into a trap. I will do no such thing.”

There is a long silence and then Ronnel bows his head and says. “Of course, forgive me Your Grace.”

“There is nothing to forgive, you were merely asking me and making sure of my position. You were right to do so now, and not later. Now, what word has come from the north regarding my brother?” Robb queries.

There is a moment’s silence and then Rodrik Forrester speaks. “There has been some progress on that front Your Grace. It seems Jon Snow is becoming more and more amenable to leaving the wall. It seems the chaos in the north has managed to draw his attention and with the chaos within the watch itself, we are not far from bringing him away from the wall.”

“And there are enough men ready to replace him?” Robb asks.

“Yes Your Grace. My brother Ethan has seen to it. As such there is only one other thing that must needs be done.” Rodrik says.

“And what is that?” Robb queries.

“What if Jon still refuses to leave the wall? Despite all that has happened, it does not seem as if he has willingly consented to any of Asher or Beron’s overtures. How do we know that he will want to leave when what happens, happens?” The Lord of Ironrath asks.

Robb looks at the man and says. “I do not care what you have to do. Just remove him from the wall.”

* * *

 

**Castle Black**

**Jon Snow**

Castle Black seemed like a cage, a damned cage. He was not trusted by most of his sworn brothers, the attack by Ygritte and her group had proved that. He had fought, had even seen her killed, and yet and yet they still did not trust him. That he had not been locked up was more to do with Maester Aemon and the control he had taken of the watch. Jon knew he had borrowed time, and he was hating waiting for his fate.  As the door opened and Sam walks in, he finds his control slipping.

“Have you come to take me to the gallows?” He asks.

His friend stops and looks at him surprised. “No, I have not. They haven’t discussed your fate for some time Jon. They’ve been far too preoccupied preparing for Mance. Bowen Marsh and Allister Thorne have ridden off to deal with fortifications elsewhere. Donal’s in control.”

“And did they say anything before they left?” Jon asks.

His friend hesitates and then says. “They continue to believe you are guilty, but they believe there is more to the story. At least Marsh does.”

“And what do you think? I know that Grenn and Pyp have not been here for a while? Do you all think me guilty?” Jon asks.

“We’ve been trying to come and see you Jon, but before now we haven’t been allowed to. Grenn and Pyp are struggling with something else.” Sam says quickly.

“What?” Jon asks.

“I…It is not my place to say. But it has to do with those two northmen who keep appearing.” Sam says.

Jon sighs. “What have they been doing? I thought we told them to get out long ago?”

“It appears they are not willing to listen to us. They continue coming back and have been giving the commanders hell about your treatment, saying that it is not right, and that a Prince of the North needs to be treated properly.” Sam responds.

Jon snorts then. “A prince? Pah, I am no more a prince than you are a warrior Sam. My vows state as much. They are fools if they believe I will leave here when there is a very real threat coming.”

His friend looks at him a moment and then asks. “Truly Jon? Does the plight of the north not bother you?”

His anger is growing now. “Of course I damned well care. I have wanted to ride south for the past two years. But I swore a vow, and by the gods I will keep it. I will not break it for something I gave up when I stood before the heart tree.”

“Even if it costs your family everything?” Sam asks. “The north is bleeding and the Starks are dying, and you would remain here, despite having the chance to fix it?”

Jon clenches his fists. “It is not about what I want.”

“Then what is it about Jon?” Sam asks.

“It is about the vow I swore and honouring that vow. I will not break it, not now, not ever. It kills me that the north is bleeding that my brothers are dead but I cannot do anything about it.” Jon says.

“Then you would allow it all to burn for some vow to a place that does not want you here?” his friend questions. “When did you become me?”

Jon feels his anger begin to boil then he moves toward Sam and growls. “Get out, get out now.”

His friend though, does not flinch and merely holds his ground. “I will not go, you are being a coward and you know it. Stop hiding behind some oath you swore and actually do something about what is happening in your home.”

The beast inside him snaps and Jon punches his friend square in the face before he knows what is happening, as Sam reels backward, his anger guides him forward and Jon moves and hits his friend again, and then a third time before stopping and looking at him and saying. “Get out now Sam, and don’t come back.”

His friend disappears and the door slams shut, Jon stands there in the doorway for a long time merely staring at the space where his friend once was. He closes his eyes and sighs. What is he doing, gods above what is he doing? He opens his eyes and finds a figure standing before him, slim and beady eyed, with moss coloured hair. The figure looks at him intently and then says. “You are lost Jon Snow.”

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” Jon asks, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“Who I am is not important, only that you realise that you are lost and remaining here will not change anything. The wall will fall and death will come for you all.” the figure replies.

“How do you know that?” Jon growls. “We have always defeated the wildlings, and we shall do so again.”

“I do not speak of the wildlings Jon Snow. I speak of the great threat that comes from beyond. And the family that once helped them.” the figure says.

“What are you talking about?” Jon asks.

“Your family must not rise again, not unless you are sat where the throne is. For the world is not ready for another winter. Not now, and not ever. Unless you leave here.” the figure says.

“I cannot leave here. I am not allowed to leave, and I would not leave even if I could. I am no oath breaker.” Jon growls.

The figure laughs. “The act you committed to prevent the true nature of your crimes against the watch coming out suggest otherwise Jon Snow. And even before you were always an oath breaker.”

“Get out.” he growls.

The figure laughs. “I cannot leave, not when you will not let me leave.”

Jon moves toward the figure, but it moves away from him, he chases after it, but it continues moving before he can get to it. Eventually Jon gives up. “What do you want from me?!” He exclaims.

The figure merely looks at him and says. “Leave the watch, or die.”


	11. Woman

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Lannister**

It seemed so surreal to Sansa, that Joffrey was dead, the boy who had tormented her for so long was now gone, killed at his own wedding. She knew she should feel something, relief, happiness, joy, those were the emotions she should feel, but all she really felt was tired. So very tired of all of this, of King’s Landing and of the games that were being played, she wanted to go home, but where was home? Her home was destroyed, ruined by the Greyjoys, and her family was dead. No matter what that man had said, her family was dead, and she was the only one left.  Tommen needed her though, and so she spent time with him.

“Thank you again for helping me Your Grace.” She says. “I do not know what I would have done without you.”

Tommen waves a hand. “It was nothing. It was the least I could do for you Sansa. You were not guilty of anything.”

 _But I was, I was guilty of praying for his death and for trying to flee, but Ser Dontos did not show._ “Still you did something you did not have to do Your Grace. Everyone else seems to think I am guilty because I am married to Tyrion.”

Her king looks at her then, his eyes filled with anger. “Everyone else is a fool. They do not know you like I do. And I know you would never do something like this.”

 _Ah but I so desperately wanted to do something such as this, for as long as my father has been dead._ Aloud Sansa merely says. “How have you been doing Your Grace? I know this cannot be easy for you.”

“Please Sansa, call me by my name. Just because I wear a crown does not mean you cannot call me by my name.” her king says.

Sansa blushes then. “Of course sorry, Your…. Tommen. But tell me please, how are you doing? I barely get to see you now, I know this must be very hard for you. Is there any way I can help you?” Sansa has long stopped being surprised at just how much she cares for Tommen, the new king is everything his brother is not, kind, sweet and caring. If only he had been born first, she thinks they could have been happy, and the war would never have happened.

The king looks at her and merely says. “Just sit with me and talk with me Sansa. That is all I ask.”

Sansa nods, and leans forward and feels her heart leap when Tommen takes her hand and curls their fingers together. They sit in silence for a moment and then she asks. “What has your mother been saying?”

A pained look comes across Tommen’s face then, and she regrets asking the question, but her king replies all the same. “She is convinced you had something to do with Joffrey’s death. That because you and my uncle were married that you shared in everything. Despite everything pointing to the contrary. My mother, I fear has gone quite mad with grief. She even told me I was not wanted.”

Sansa looks at her king’s face, and sees that despite his attempt at nonchalance, his mother’s words have deeply stung him. “Oh Tommen,” she begins. “Your mother is grieving, surely she could not mean such a thing.”

Tommen laughs. “You know, I keep telling myself that, but the more I think about it, the more I think it is true. I do not think my mother ever wanted me. I know for certain my father never did. Mother was always on about Joffrey, he was the apple in her eye, and now he is gone.”

“But you are her son, surely she must care for you. This wedding only shows how dangerous it is now. Surely she wants to protect you?” Sansa asks.

“Yes, she wants to protect me by shutting me away inside the Red Keep, and having me watched constantly. She wants to protect me by having those I care most about taken away from me and tried as if they are criminals. Already, she has prepared witnesses to stand against uncle Tyrion. I will not allow her to do the same to you.” Tommen says.

“Perhaps it might best if I do so?” Sansa asks. “After all, there will be those who harbour doubts, because of who my father and brother were. If I stand trial, perhaps I can clear my name and make things right.”

Tommen squeezes her hand. “That will not work Sansa. My mother is determined to see you burn as well for what she believes was your part in Joffrey’s death. I will not give her that chance. And besides despite all of this, you and my uncle are no longer married.”

Sansa blinks in surprise then and then she remembers. “You managed to get it done?”

“Yes. I made sure to speak to my grandfather as well as the High Septon. The annulment was made official earlier today. You and my uncle Tyrion are no longer wed.” her king says.

There is a moment of relief and then Sansa feels the familiar tendrils of fear begin to engulf her. “What will become of me now? Now that I am not married to anyone?”

Her king squeezes her hand and says soothingly. “You will remain here for a time Sansa, as long as you wish. I will not allow anyone to take advantage of you. Not my mother, not my grandfather and certainly not the Tyrells.”

Sansa fights to push down the small feeling of disappointment at her king’s words, and then asks. “What of the Tyrells? Surely they are expecting you to now marry Lady Margaery in your brother’s place?”

Her king grimaces at that. “They have not mentioned it yet, at least it has not been mentioned to me, but I suppose yes, they do wish for that to happen.”

Sansa looks at their joined hands and then asks. “And what do you want?”

Her king looks at their joined hands and then at her and his response takes her breath away. “You. I want you Sansa Stark.”

* * *

 

**The Shy Maid**

**Septa Lemore**

For many years now, she had worn the veil of a septa, a chaste life, for someone such as her, gods how she knew Arthur would have laughed. Ned would have laughed as well if he could see her now, the great beauty she had been, a septa. It was something, something different and something that might well have saved her life. Being given the chance to help raise Elia’s son that was her salvation, her way to make amends for the many crimes she had committed. The ghosts that haunted her dreams and her waking hours, all of it was worth it, if it meant Elia’s son would one day sit the throne.

“What word has there been?” she asks.

Griff, the man who was once Rhaegar’s friend and she suspects’ lover, looks at her with furrowed brows. “It seems that the war in Westeros has begun to wind down, one king is dead, another is somewhere far away, and another is fighting for his life. The Baratheons have won this stage of the war.”

She feels something within her tighten at that. “Who died?”

Griff looks at her understandingly. “The Stark boy. Killed at his uncle’s wedding.”

Lemore closes her eyes for a moment. Ned’s boy, gone killed at a wedding. “Who?” she asks.

“The Freys and Tywin Lannister, who else?” Griff responds.

Lemore sighs then. “They always were too treacherous and the Starks too trusting. What has happened in the north?”

“Chaos it would seem. All are fighting all. It seems none know who they wish to fight for, and so are all staking a claim into fighting for power.” Griff responds.

“Is the Stark girl not still in King’s Landing? Why do they not use her?” she asks.

“She is being saved I believe, being saved for when the north has exhausted itself.” Griff replies.

Lemore, opens her eyes then and merely says. “Then we know what must be done then do we not?”

“I believe that is what the eunuch is doing right now. Working to get the girl out of the city before things take a turn for the worst. But there is more news, and that is more pressing right now.” Griff says.

“And what is that?” She asks.

“The Golden Company it seems has taken a contract to fight within Slaver’s Bay. It seems the slavers are determined to end our King’s queen’s reign there.” Griff says.

The words hit her like a bolt of thunder. “What? Why have they done that? I would have thought Illyrio would have tried to keep them away from the fighting for as long as possible. Them fighting for the slavers does not exactly benefit us, nor endear them to the Queen.”

“My point exactly, but it seems Harry Strickland’s desire for money outweighs common sense. Something is not right about this, there is something more to it, but I am not sure what exactly, and it is beginning to worry me.” Griff says.

“What do you mean? What other reason could there be for the Golden Company abandoning us now, than for Strickland’s greed? We both know what that man is, and we both know the company has been torn and divided for the past few years.” Lemore says.

Griff looks at her then and says. “Yes, but there is always a reason for that. The company was founded to be a professional force, something that the other companies in Essos might claim to have, but have always failed to deliver. For the past few years, something has been going on, and it seems that they are now coming to a head. Right when we need them the most, they are coming to a point where there might be no turning back.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it is as you said, the company will not exactly endear itself to the Queen by fighting against her, and yet it seems that is what they shall do. This does not seem right, Strickland is many things but he is no idiot, he knows he does not stand a chance fighting against the Queen. Something else is going on here, and I do not know what it is.” Griff says.

Lemore looks at the man before her, and she can see the lines of worry all too evident on his face. She leans forward to soothe them, but before she can another voice sounds in the room. “What is it? Why does everyone look so serious? Has someone died?”

The voice of their king snaps them both out of their reverie, and Lemore turns to see Aegon standing there, tall and stocky, not at all like his father, but kind like his mother. “Nothing, just a mere inconvenience.” Griff says.

“I would not say that the loss of the company is a mere inconvenience.” Aegon says. At the questioning look he gets, he merely says. “Duck told me.” he pauses a moment and then asks. “Why would they go back on their promise? They refused my uncle because of it, and now they are fighting my wife to be and not upholding their promise? This does not seem right.”

“Nothing has been going right since your uncle died Your Grace. But we must adapt and make new plans. I can speak to the magister about this, and see if he can fix it. He has always had a special appeal with the company.” Griff says.

“No.” Aegon says. “You will do no such thing.”

“Why Your Grace? Surely speaking to the magister might well make this easier for us all?” Lemore enquires.

She has always been able to tell when the boy she raised as a son was going to lie, and she sees it now, in his posture and the way his head leans forward slightly, but then he does not lie and she is surprised. “Because I do not trust him. There is something he is keeping from us, and I want to know what it is.”


	12. Ride The Storm

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. The Rills**

**Barbrey Dustin**

She was haunted by dreams, dreams that she knew should not make sense but for her did. She dreamed of her husband dead these many years, slain in Dorne fighting for Eddard Stark, something she had never truly understood, her husband had been friends with Brandon, and had married her to cover up his friend’s transgression, and yet he had gone to fight for Eddard, the lesser brother. She had always wondered what her life might have been like had Willam lived, she would not be the dried up husk she was now, but she also would not have reason to do as she was doing now.

Her father was like any other old man raised during the time of Rickard Stark’s minority, a fool. “The Tallharts remain under the Ironborn’s hold, Ramsay Bolton has done damage to Stannis Baratheon and the Manderlys remain aloof as ever. Now is the time to strike, we must begin making our own way into this war if we are to come out successful.”

“Do you not think that there might be a reason why Manderly remains neutral? He has not even declared for Baratheon, and I do believe he executed Davos Seaworth the man’s messenger when he came to White Harbour. There is more going on at White Harbour than we think, we would be foolish to do something that could antagonise them.” Barbrey cautions.

“Wyman Manderly is a traitor, he bent the moment the Young Wolf was slain, no doubt he had always been planning on doing so. Wyman’s friendship with Lord Rickard never went to his sons and as such there was no reason for him to continue once the Young Wolf stopped winning.” her father responds.

“Truly? You believe that father? What makes you so sure of that?” Barbrey asks. She ignores the warning look from her brother Roger.

“Rickard Stark and that fat man were thick as thieves, when the lord and his heir died, we got a southern boy, a southern boy who tried to be a Northman. I highly doubt Wyman Manderly ever respected Eddard Stark or his southern children. Hells I know that he did not. The amount of times he would speak of how the north was not being used to its full potential, that Stark was merely a boy playing at being a man. I know he did not care.” her father says.

“And what of the rumours that he knows where the boys are?” Barbrey asks. “We both know something happened at Winterfell, and it was not what Ramsay Snow would have us believe. What if those rumours prove to be true?”

“Pah, rumours, Wyman Manderly deals in rumour. He means to name himself King of the White Knife, and he is welcome to it. The north is done as a united kingdom, it is time we took what land we could and made it our own.” her father says.

“We were never kings in the days of old father. Where would you be based? How would you convince others to support you?” Barbrey asks.

“I have two thousand men here with me, the Ironborn have barely twenty men in Deepwood Motte. The lands of the Shore and the Point can be easily won. We shall gain allies the more we fight to drive invaders from our lands. We can get support through strength of arms.” her father responds.

“And what if others rise up in rebellion? What if a greater force of Ironborn comes calling? What then?” Barbrey asks.

“You think the Ironborn will come here? Pah, whoever their king is, he will not consider fighting for a place he cannot hold. We have the perfect chance here, we shall take it.” her father says stubbornly.

“What of the Ryders father?” her brother Roger asks. “They have always looked to undermine us. They have a far better claim to the crown than we do. Surely that would make them wonder at our motives?”

At this her father laughs. “Harlon Ryder has never been an ambitious man, and he is still a slave to me, after we won the bet with his father. He will do as I say and he will make his sons do the same, otherwise I shall see them slain.”

“And what of his brother?” Roger asks. “Karlon Ryder is not a man to take being subjected easily. He has long contended our power within the Rills and he is more popular than his brother, he can get support if the need arises. That he has not yet thought to bring them into the war, is most likely because we have not done what you have suggested doing.”

Their father snorts. “You are scared of a Ryder? They have not been a power since the days when the Starks ruled nothing more than the hovel that became Winterfell. They have nothing and little less in the way of support, any support Karlon Ryder might think he has, has all been provided by me. Those men and women would do what I told them to and nothing more.” their father pauses and then says. “I think there is another reason why you are saying all of this, the both of you.”

“And what reason would that be father?” Barbrey asks.

“You two have always looked more than you seem. There was something you were planning with Brandon when he was alive was there not Barbrey? Though I did suggest that myself, so I cannot be surprised. After all, we have always sought more for ourselves then perhaps others would like.” Rodrik Ryswell says.

“What are you talking about father?” her brother Roger asks.

“You have long waited to sit where I sit Roger, you have wanted the power that comes with my title, and you wanted it from the moment your mother died. I do not blame you, I was the same. But I cannot allow you to take the power from me. You are not ready.” Rodrik says.

Barbrey looks at her father then and says. “And you have been in power for far too long. You are an old man now father, someone who must needs be removed. The north is in chaos, and we are all suffering. The wolves are the only people who can keep this kingdom secure. You will suffer for these reasons, and die the death you deserve.”

* * *

 

**Deepwood Motte**

**Princess Asha Greyjoy**

Her father was dead, a fall from a bridge they claimed, Asha though she believed there was more to it than that. Her uncle Euron had appeared just a day after her father’s death when the Kingsmoot had been called. And now her uncle was king, it was far too convenient. She could not abide by it, seeing that mad man sit where her brother should sit. She did not know where Theon was, but she knew he was still alive, she would feel it if he were dead. And yet, she did not know how she would get to him now, she herself was facing her death. Northmen were coming in great numbers toward her, from the south and from the north, she had little in the way of numbers.

“Princess, surely you can see that we do not have a hope in hell of winning here. We must return to the islands.” Tristifer says.

“And do what? My uncle will have me killed the moment I return to the islands. We all know that, I am a threat to him. I would rather stay here and fight than die out there.” Asha responds.

“And shall your men die with you as well? What of their families and loved ones back on the islands? What of your brother?” Botley asks.

“My men know what they are getting themselves into. If they want to return to the islands they are welcome to. As for my brother, the only way I can find him is by fighting here. I will not find him if I run to the islands.” Asha growls.

“And if you do die here, what then? You know the northern lords would never allow you to live. Fleeing is not cowardly Asha, you can still regroup and live to fight another day. But fighting here against all the odds? That is stupid. And you are not stupid my princess.” Botley says.

“Only Greenlanders flee.” her cousin Dagon says. “We are Ironborn, salt and iron run through our veins, and we do not flee.”

“Then you will all die. And all of this,” Botley replies gesturing. “Will have been for nothing. I will not be a part of this madness.”

The man goes to leave but Asha grabs him and throws him back. “Where do you think you are going?” she asks.

“I am leaving. You said any man who wished to leave could do so. Well that is what I am doing.” Botley replies defiantly.

“You are not allowed to leave.” Asha says firmly.

“What?” Botley asks amazed. “Why?”

“I do not accept treason lightly.” Asha responds.

“Treason? What treason?” Botley asks.

The whole room is silent then, waiting for her to speak, Asha looks at the man who has claimed to love her since they were children, she looks at him and she wonders if they could ever have a life together, perhaps they could have once. But she has only ever loved one man, and she can never be with him. She does not want to die a slave to her uncle, nor does she want to die here in the north far from her home. So she shall take a middle course. “We shall not wait here for the northmen to come and have us slain, we shall leave but we shall look to go elsewhere. We must find somewhere else to be based for now. We leave now.”

With that she turns and leaves the room, she goes to her own chambers and takes her things, what few there are remaining here. She puts on her armour and then takes her axe, and walks out of the room. Her men are there waiting for her, she merely looks at them all before nodding. They walk out and begin the journey toward the ships docked some few miles away. Asha’s heart is thumping, she can hear it, and she swears the others must hear it as well. Her breathing is harsh, it is early yet, the sun has yet to come out and emerge from beyond the moon, and so she keeps going, her men following. The woods though are thick and deep, and soon she gets lost, and then the horns sound.

The growls of northmen startle her and her men, but soon they are thrown into the cause of battle, Asha lets her emotions guide her. She swings her axe, forward, backward, doing all she can to keep the wolves at bay. The pack that has tormented her dreams it seems has come to kill her now. She swings her axe and cuts through the foes she knows are massing everywhere, swinging, one man falls, another joins him and then another. It goes on, and on, a bloody process wrought into her through years of practice. She knows this might be what keeps her alive, or sees her dead, and still she goes on.  Swinging her axe like a woman possessed she goes on, pushing on toward where she believes the clearing is and their ships wait for them. The thought of getting to her ship and sailing is one that keeps her going through the darkness, the blood guiding her like a beacon.

Her body is taking a pounding, her blood is oozing out of her like the wine she would so like to drink. Gods it hurts, but she goes on, she will not stop and stand there to be killed, she will continue fighting, determined to end what threat there is to her and her men. It seems the northmen are suffering, struggling to bring themselves through the darkness as well, Asha smiles at that and laughs. She laughs as she sees her men fall around her, Botley is gone, a sword through his throat, she laughs as the drowned god beckons to her, she can see Rodrik and Maron laughing, calling to her now, and she staggers toward them, laughing. She is still laughing when another horn sounds, and the sound of hooves reach her.


	13. Trials and Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trials are such a family affair.

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Tyrion Lannister**

Joffrey was dead, the monster was gone, and Tyrion was happy about that, happy that something had at least gone right during his time in the damned city. So many other things had been tried and failed, his wife, well she was not really his wife anymore, he had tried to warn her, had tried to get her away from King’s Landing, but she had spoken to someone. And somehow Baelish had come to know of it and they had been wed. That was one of the things he regretted, deeply, truly regretted, leaving Sansa with someone like him, when throughout the course of the war, before the Blackwater and even after it, he had been working hard to get Sansa away. Away from King’s Landing, even if it broke Tommen’s heart.

He stands now, before the court standing on a podium he looks at the high table, the throne looming ominously behind it, Tommen sat atop it. The king speaks. “Thank you all for coming. We are here today, for what I believe shall be the final day of the trial. We have heard some convincing arguments from both sides. But I would wish to hear some closing arguments and decisions before the final decision is made. Lord Rosby as master of laws if you could present your arguments first.”

Rosby is an old man, far older than Pycelle, and Tyrion wonders how he can even stand. “Thank you, Your Grace. After the testimony of three members of the Kingsguard and some sworn testimony from the Queen Dowager herself, there is one final person who I would like to call before the stand.” A moment’s silence and then. “Lady Sansa’s lady in waiting, Shae.”

There is a moment’s silence as Tyrion feels his heart enter his mouth, Shae looks so breathtakingly beautiful, but she looks at him beseeching him for his forgiveness, Cersei truly has gone to some lengths. Shae sits down and then Rosby speaks once more. “Shae, would you please tell the court how you came to know Tyrion Lannister?

“I met him during the battle of the Green Fork, where he had the sellsword Bronn bring me before him. I was to be his whore, to cook and clean for him and to love him. He made me call him, my giant of Lannister.” Shae says, there is laughter at that.

“What else did he make you do?” Rosby asks.

“He made me go and communicate with those who are considered traitors to the crown. He made me speak with those I knew within the enemy camp, and he used me for his own foul purposes.” Shae says.

Tyrion feels his anger grow then, but he bites his tongue. “What foul purposes were these?”

“He plotted his nephew’s death, he communicated with those who know the darkest of arts and decided on a way to get the necessary tools for the deed. He had me speak with the Grand Maester in order to procure these tools and then he sent me away, he had no more use for me. For he had his wife to help him with the planning and the plotting.” Shae responds.

“A lie!” Tyrion bites. “Why are you telling such lies?!”

“You shall remain quiet until spoken to Tyrion.” his father says sharply.

“And what role did the Lady Sansa play in these acts?” Rosby asks.

“She was sent to get to know Lady Margaery, to get to know her and assess where her weaknesses were.” Shae says, her voice beginning to crack. Tyrion closes his eyes then. “She was sent to charm the Lady Margaery and to ensure that she got as much information from her as she possibly could.”

“Why did they require information?” Rosby asks.

The whole throne room is quiet now, awaiting Shae’s response. Tyrion keeps his eyes shut tight, this is one part he cannot deny. He swallows and then he hears Shae respond. “Because Tyrion wanted to use that information to harm the Tyrells, he wanted to know as much about them as possible so that when all was done, he could use that information to bring them down.”

There is a shocked gasp that runs through the throne room at this, and Tyrion swallows even more, for he knows that that is something he cannot willingly deny. For he has tried to do that, when he saw the Tyrells abandon Sansa so easily, he decided they would suffer. He might not have loved his former wife, but he did care for her, and she did not deserve that. Finally, Lord Rosby speaks. “Thank you, no further questions.”

Tyrion opens his eyes then as he sees Rosby hobble off to sit down. There is a long silence after that, and then finally, Lord Tywin speaks. “My King, I believe we should hear what the accused has to say.”

His nephew nods. “Of course, Lord Tyrion if you could.”

Tyrion takes a deep breath and then laughs. “Well after that little display I am not quite sure what I can say to convince you all that I am innocent.” He pauses, laughs once more, then looks at his sister. “Well done Cersei, you have firmly earned the right to become the worst sister in the whole of Westeros. You accuse me of something I have never done. I might have said things, and I might not have liked the brat, but he was my blood, and I was always taught that blood meant more than anything else. Whatever else his failings, he was just a boy, and I do not harm boys.”

A murmur and then. “But you just like hurting girls then?” Tyrion looks up and sees Mace Tyrell fuming.

“I tell you Lord Tyrell, I did nothing but help Lady Margaery, I know things that would make your blood curl if you heard them. But you will not, and I will not waste my breath trying to ensure that you hear them.” Tyrion responds. He looks up at the king then and says. “Your Grace, if you wish to kill me, then do so. I know it will hurt, but perhaps you might gain some solace from knowing your tormentor is dead.”

* * *

 

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

His uncle’s words echo throughout his mind, and he hears the whispers and gasps at the man’s words. He looks at his uncle and sees the absolute lack of anything but acceptance there, and anger grows inside of him. How dare his uncle give up so easily? How dare he question Tommen’s faith in him? Tommen looks to where his mother is and sees a look of absolute smugness on her face, and his anger grows even more. He has not forgotten her words before, and now he will use them to harm her. “We are not quite done yet uncle. Mother come forward.”

His mother comes forward before them then, and she curtseys. “You wish to speak with me Your Grace?”

Tommen smiles. “I do.” He stands then, and the whole room stands. “Sit down all of you please.” they sit down and he feels something akin to power flow through him at that. Taking a breath he looks at his mother and says. “Tell me mother, why did you accuse uncle Tyrion of murdering Joffrey?”

Murmurs break out at this, but his mother looks at him and calmly replies. “Because he had the most motive to do such a thing.”

“And what makes you think that?” Tommen asks.

His mother snorts. “He always talked down to your brother, he always made threats against him. Joffrey told me on more than one occasion that he was afraid of Tyrion, that he knew that the dwarf would be the death of him. It seems he was right.”

Tommen’s anger grows at this. “And you do not think that Joffrey might well have earned some of that ire from uncle Tyrion? Joffrey was not exactly blameless. He was a mad boy, and a cruel one at that. His treatment of Lady Sansa is proof enough of that.”

His mother bristles then. “Your brother was the king, and Sansa was a traitor. Her whole family were traitors. She deserved everything she got. Your brother did what he had to, to ensure our family was safe.”

Tommen laughs then, a bitter sound. “Safe? Is that what you call the riots when Cella was leaving for Dorne? Is that what you call the many times when we could not leave the Red Keep because Joffrey’s actions at the Great Sept had caused lunacy within the streets? Is that what you call it when he used to do those things to me?” his voice begins to break then. “That was not the action of a king, but the action of a beast.”

His mother stiffens. “He was your brother, and he loved you. You needed to be toughened up. A boy cannot rule Westeros, only a man can.”

Tommen walks down the steps of the throne toward his mother, anger propelling him forward. “A man? A man or a beast? That is what Joffrey was mother, no amount of denying it could change what he was. He was an animal who deserved what he got. He was my brother, and I loved him, but he died the way he lived.”

“You would say that about your own flesh and blood?” His mother snarls. “You are no Lannister.”

“You are right mother, I am no Lannister. My father was Robert Baratheon, and I am his son and heir. Mine is the fury. And I will not allow your own prejudices to ruin this trial. Now either take back all you have had others testify to saying or leave.” Tommen booms.

The room is alive with whispering now, and Tommen swears he hears someone say. “That’s a true Baratheon there.” He feels his chest swell with pride at that, but merely looks at his mother. She looks completely stunned, and hurt as well. Tommen feels nothing at this, he merely looks at his mother and waits for her to speak.

“I will not go back on what I said, or what others have said. For it is the truth. Your uncle is a murderer and a monster and he will bring you down to the pits of the seven hells Your Grace. If you cannot see that, then you are a blind fool.” his mother says.

Tommen grits his teeth then and after a moment responds. “No mother, it is you who is the fool. You refuse to see the truth even when it is there staring you in the face. You never looked at me before Joffrey died, and now that he is gone, and I wear the crown you do not look at me as a person.” He stops then, and looks around the hall. “None of these fools do. The only people who do are either not here or are being tried for something they did not do. I will not have it. The injustice must stop.”

“You would allow this monster back?” Tommen hears someone ask.

Turning around he sees that it is Mace Tyrell who has asked the question. “No, Lord Mace. I would allow my uncle back home, I would allow him to walk a free man. We all know these accusations are nonsense. What man would ever want to be caught with the weapon that killed his king, let alone the man who all know hates the king? My uncle is not a fool, and despite my mother’s attempts, I will not allow these things to ruin this family.”

“A profound statement Your Grace. And one that is much too wise for someone of your years.” Prince Oberyn says. “Tell me, where did you come to learn how to speak like that?”

Tommen looks at the prince and says. “I am a prince, and I am a person of the people. That is something my brother never learned. I am the people and they are me. That is the way it has always been. I will not allow petty grudges to stop that.”

“What is your decision Your Grace?” his grandfather asks.

Tommen looks at his grandfather, and then at his uncle, he feels his heart hammer in his chest and then he says. “I find Tyrion Lannister, not guilty of the crime of killing his king. He is innocent, and free to go.”


	14. Can't Kill The Devil

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

She was no longer a Lannister by marriage, the High Septon had agreed to formally annul her marriage to Tyrion, and she could not be happier. She liked Tyrion, but the marriage had been nothing but a lie, and she was tired of lying. That Tyrion was now free from all charges was another good thing, her King had shown just how wise and true he truly was, by dismissing the false accusations against Tyrion he had shown he would not be swayed by the biases of his mother, and Sansa thought she might just love him for that.

Of course there was one other thing standing in the way of them becoming a true couple, and it was that she had come to speak to her king about. “My love, what will you do about Margaery? You know that the Tyrells will accept nothing less than having you married to her. How will you stop that from happening?”

Tommen takes her hands and looks at her. “I have already begun speaking with my grandfather about the Tyrells. I think we might have found something that might allow the marriage to not take place.”

Sansa looks at her king and asks. “Oh? What might that be?”

“I might have found some proof that Margaery and her family are not as innocent in all of this as it seems. They did after all fight for Renly before joining us. And that is something that has always made me wonder. Renly died in a very strange manner, there are those who blame Stannis, and then there are those who blame the Tyrells themselves.” Tommen responds.

“What makes you think the Tyrells might have something to do with Renly’s death?” Sansa asks, their approach on the tip of her tongue.

“The fact that my uncle was not exactly as straight as my father might well have something to do with that. But there is also the fact that my uncle was not so great a fool as to leave his marriage unconsummated. Margaery Tyrell wanted to be the queen, she still does, but more than that she wants a child of hers to claim the throne. I would not be surprised if there is a surprise waiting for us somewhere down the line.” Tommen responds.

As her king’s words sink in, she realises just what that might mean. “You mean to suggest, that Lady Margaery might have given birth to Lord Renly’s child? But then, where is that child, and why did the Tyrells not continue to fight for it?”

Her king looks at her then and merely says. “Because, it would not suit them to fight for a mere babe. The Tyrells might have more sense than most, but their bannermen respect strength, and a babe does not have strength. Joffrey was a boy, a cruel boy, but he was someone who showed strength, furthermore, it was good sense for them to ally with us, for then they did not have one more enemy to fight. I think they might well have done something during the wedding to make it so that Joffrey never had a chance.”

Sansa touches her hair then and says. “My hair… I wore a hairnet the day of the wedding, Lady Olenna helped fix it when it went awry.” she pauses a moment then and then looks at her king. “You do not think that, that might have been where the substance came from?”

Tommen is looking at her intently, his eyes searching. “Where did you get the hairnet from my love?”

Sansa swallows nervously, she does not know what she should say, but then she decides that the truth is the best course. She will not lie, not to Tommen. “Ser Dontos Hollard, he gave it to me as a gift.”

Her king looks at her a moment and then says. “The fool? I thought you had never spoken to him beyond that brief encounter where you saved his life? Why would he give you a hairnet like that?”

Sansa closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then she responds. “Because it was a gift, a gift as thanks for saving his life, and a way for me to say thank you to him as well.”

“Thank him for what?” Tommen asks.

Sansa takes another deep breath. “For helping me escape King’s Landing.”

A long silence follows this, and Sansa opens her eyes, to see Tommen not looking at her, but some far off point. His gaze seems unfocussed, and she is worried, terribly worried. When he opens his mouth, she breathes a sigh of relief. “I see. Well then, there is one place to start, another is where the Tyrells might have gotten such substances.”

Sansa looks at her king and ponders. “Why are you so sure that the Tyrells had a hand in all that occurred at that wedding? Why do you wish to pin the blame on them, and not some poor twist of fate?”

Her king looks at her and says simply. “Because if I do not find ample reason for whatever stupid plan they have, I will be wed to Margaery Tyrell and then I shall be looking at a fate similar to my brother’s. And secondly, I will not accuse the Prince of Dorne of this, for my sister is in grave danger. Just as your brother is.”

“My brother?” Sansa asks surprised.

“Jon Snow, the bastard of the wall. My grandfather has told me that the Boltons and the Karstarks are looking into getting their hands on him. My grandfather wants to get him as well, for Snow is more valuable to us alive than dead.” Tommen says.

“What does your grandfather want Jon for?” Sansa asks, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

Tommen squeezes her hands reassuringly before responding. “He wants Jon to come south and swear fealty to the throne. If he does this, he will be given that which your other brother might well have bequeathed him.” Tommen pauses a moment and then says. “If Jon does as he is told, he will be legitimised and given Winterfell.”

> * * *

 

**Castle Black**

**Jon Snow**

The waiting was growing tiresome, the wildlings were advancing with increasingly freneticism, there had been attacks and near misses, and still Jon was kept within his chambers at the wall. Kept under lock and key, not allowed to leave, and not allowed to do anything without a guard accompanying him at all times. He knew only the barest fragments of what was happening, and Sam and his friends had stopped coming all together.  That was why he was so surprised when his door opened and there before him stood someone he had never thought to see.

_“Ethan? What are you doing here?” Jon asks stunned._

_Ethan Forrester stands before him, sweating, covered in mud and blood, but a grin on his face. “Why, I’ve come to free you from your cell Jon.”_

_Jon looks at the man before him and asks. “But how? How have you gotten here and where are my sworn brothers?”_

_At that Ethan’s face falls somewhat. “They are either fighting, or they are being slain. We must move now Jon, I will tell you more once we are out of here.”_

_“What do you mean slain? What is going on out there Ethan?” Jon asks._

_“Not out there, but somewhere, beyond the wall. The Brothers of the Watch have gone north of the wall to fight something. We must not tarry.” Ethan says pulling Jon up and out of the room, quite the feat._

_Jon is still stunned by this turn of events, and so follows Ethan somewhat in a dazed state, they walk out of his room, Ghost accompanying them, and soon are outside, and it is then that Jon sees the true extent of the carnage. There are bodies and pyres everywhere. He looks at Ethan and asks him once more. “What happened?”_

_“Death awoke and came charging through the depths of hell.” Ethan says._

_Jon looks at him and then at the bodies before them, understanding dawning on him. “The Others? They came here?”_

_“Aye. So it would seem.” Ethan says._

_“Then I cannot go.” Jon says stubbornly._

_Ethan looks at him and his face is contorted into a snarl when he says. “Then I am afraid you must be taken by force.”_

_Suddenly a force of men come out of the shadows and pounce on him, he looks for Longclaw but cannot find it, he hits out with his fists and succeeds for a time, but eventually he is overwhelmed there are too many of them, they are coming, crawling through the wood work, hitting him, and bringing him down in more and more ways that hurt and ache. He sees the faces of the dead, and they talk to him as if they are there before him. Words that are most vile are said to him, and he screams, he screams and screams, but only death comes for him._

_The sound of drums makes him shoot awake._ Jon looks around, sweat dripping from him, _a dream, it was only a dream._ And yet as he stands up and walks toward the door, he hears the sound of battle. _This is no dream, there is something going on out there, but he does not know what it is, he cannot escape this cell of his. Whoever locked him in here took the key and left him to rot in his own guilt. The ground shakes and he hears a roar, and then another. Giants. Mance has come. His heart starts thumping in his chest, somewhere there is a battle out there and he does not know what to make of it. He calls out, begging for someone to help him out of this damned cell, but no one comes, no one bothers coming, not for the bastard._

_Jon shouts, curses, yells, does all he can to try and bring attention to the fact that he is still there, still alive, that he is one more man who could be used to defend against the damned wildlings and their increasingly erratic attacks. The ground underneath his feet shakes, and he curses again. What is going on out there? He does not know, and that, that worries him, he needs to know, he must know what is coming, what is happening. The door flies open then and Jon is forced back, he lands on the bed, and before him stands a figure, a monstrous figure, with a wolf’s head and a man’s body. The figure stands before him and points a bloodied finger at him.  A growl comes from the figure and Jon feels something inside him stir. “Robb?” he asks._

_The figure lurches toward him. “Heir, death.” the figure slurs._

_“What? I…I…I do not understand.” Jon stutters._

_“Death….to…. the….heir.” the figure snarls, crawling toward him now._

_“What do you mean?” Jon shouts._

_The figure comes toward him now, a cold hand on his leg, Jon tries to shake it off, desperately tries to shake it off, and yet the figure clings to him, not letting go, Jon shouts, he curses, he fights, and yet still the figure holds onto his leg, not letting go, not letting go. “What do you want from me?” Jon yells._

_The figure looks up at him now. “Your loyalty.” Jon screams then, for the figure is not the monster that haunted him, but now, it is a boy with golden hair and a lion’s head, a boy who grins and then destroys him._

Jon’s eyes fly open then, and he reaches for the figure. “Now do you see why you must break from the wall Jon Snow?”

“What did you show me?” Jon growls.

“What will happen if you do not leave the wall. You cannot stay here, only death waits for those on the wall, and you, you are far too important to leave to such a fate.” the figure replies.

“What would you have me do then?” Jon asks.

“Leave for the mountains and find the one your sister is named for. Find her, and then you shall know the truth.” the figure responds.


	15. Secrets Kept

**1 st Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

Joffrey was dead, and for that Tywin was more than willing to thank the gods he no longer believed existed. The boy had been a complete terror, a monster no doubt from the polluted blood within his system. The blood of a fire house that had once been powerful and dominant. The blood that had given Tywin his greatness, but had turned his grandson into a monster. There was hope yet for his legacy, after all, Tommen was now king, and the boy sat before him seemed to have more sense than his father, his mother and brother combined, something that whilst not difficult was a damned sight welcome after the difficulties of Joffrey.

“So tell me Your Grace, what have you managed to learn from the Stark girl?” Tywin asks his grandson.

Tommen, the king, who looks much like Jaime did in his youth, and yet holds himself like Robert Baratheon, replies. “She told me where that hair net of hers came from. Ser Dontos Hollard, the drunkard who served as Joffrey’s fool. The fool has been missing for some time. I do believe we might have some way to make the Tyrells take the fall for this.”

Tywin looks at his grandson and responds. “Hollard was working for Baelish that much I have been able to find out. But do go on, how would you have us pin the blame on the Tyrells?”

His grandson takes a moment before he replies. “It is simple really, it was Baelish who went to negotiate with them after Renly’s death. It was Baelish who spoke with them about the terms, and from speaking with Sansa, it was Hollard who warned her against the Tyrells, though where else might he have gotten such a thing other than from Baelish. But yes, the Tyrells have taken far too much of an interest in Sansa for things not to be intriguing.”

“The Tyrells wanted Lady Sansa merely for her claim to Winterfell, and as such wanted nothing more from her. I do believe that is obvious from what we saw during the trial, considering how willing they were to believe the nonsense that Cersei had her witnesses come forward with.” Tywin says.

“And yet Sansa continues to believe the best of Margaery. I do not understand why.” his grandson complains.

“Lady Sansa wishes to believe the best of Margaery Tyrell, because the girl offered her the hand of friendship when none else here would do so. That was foolish of Cersei, to prevent her other female company, perhaps if that had been done, she would not have been so willing to run.” Tywin responds, looking at his grandson and seeing the small flash of anger there. “To run from one such as you Your Grace, there must have been much and more that was being offered.”

Tywin feels his lips twitch at the sight of his grandson puffing himself up. “Sansa was being guided by evil forces grandfather. Whatever was to happen did not happen, and therefore she is not guilty of anything there. I would rather see the Tyrells brought down.”

Tywin merely nods. “Of course Your Grace. I was not suggesting otherwise. Though to find more suitable evidence to bring down the Tyrells we shall need more than just the word of Sansa Stark and a few handmaidens. Furthermore, your marriage must needs be discussed. The Tyrell alliance was subject to Margaery Tyrell marrying your brother. Your brother is now dead, and as such you are expected to fulfil his contract.”

Tywin sees his grandson stiffen then. “I will not marry the girl. For all we know she is plotting to have me killed as well. No, I will not allow that to happen.”

Tywin sighs slightly then. “And what would you do then Your Grace? The Tyrells are far too powerful to alienate. We must give them something else then.”

His grandson is silent a moment and then responds. “We do not need to give them a royal marriage. Already they have more power on the small council then the Starks did when Eddard Stark was alive. No, it is time we looked to others within their kingdom, and sought to use the traditional rivalries there to bring them within our grasp.”

Tywin feels something akin to pride flow through him at his grandson’s words. “There are many different elements that make up the Tyrells power base all of whom are divided within themselves over different aims. What would you suggest Your Grace?”

“Randyll Tarly.” his grandson responds and Tywin feels his interest perk up. “The man is one of the greatest commanders within Westeros and yet his liege lord is a buffoon who cannot fight to save his life. Why does such a man continue to serve Mace Tyrell? It is something I have never understood, especially considering what he made his own son do. There is some other reasoning behind what Tarly is doing, and I do believe if we offer him Highgarden or the Lord Paramountship he would certainly be willing to consider it.”

“You would need to show your strength. Joffrey did not have to face such a challenge, but you, you are younger and must therefore take the initiative.” Tywin states.

“I plan on doing so grandfather.” his grandson responds. “I mean to ensure any support for Stannis Baratheon within the crownlands and elsewhere is destroyed, and furthermore I mean to see what is happening within the riverlands.”

Tywin considers this a moment and then says. “All good and well, but Tarly will need for you to demonstrate some show of strength to him in person before he ever considers turning on his liege lord.”

His grandson is silent for a long time then, and as the silence stretches on, Tywin wonders if his hope in the boy might have been misplaced, the child is only three and ten namedays old, and yet he demonstrates the same smartness that Tywin remembers his cousin Damon showing. Eventually the boy says. “I know just what Tarly will want, and I intend to give that to him.”

“And what is that Your Grace?” Tywin asks.

“A chance to show his liege lord just who he is. A chance to earn his own rightful place in the world.” the king states.

* * *

 

**Maidenpool**

**Lord Randyll Tarly**

Maidenpool was an infested shit hole. That much Randyll had always known, the city was one of those places that tried too hard to be like King’s Landing and failed miserably because of it. Randyll had known Lord Mooton’s father, and had respected the man, but Lord Walys was a fool, not someone to be respected or feared, merely angry with. That his own daughter had contributed to his downfall said something, the girl had been hung of course, Randyll would not allow traitors to continue living let alone be allowed to marry his son and heir. Dickon was developing into a strong young man, and a capable knight at that, and then there were his girls, he would need to find suitable husbands for them in due course. There was a never ending list of things for him to do considering the fool that was his liege lord.

Mace Tyrell, a buffoon if ever there was one, and yet the man was his liege lord. The man was a pale image of the father, and as such Randyll found himself wondering what Luthor had been thinking when he had gone hunting that fateful day. Alas, it did no good to dwell on the past, for there were more pressing matters that needed to be taken care of. Looking at the men before him, Randyll speaks. “Tell me, what word has there been from Riverrun? Has Lord Edmure raised those men he needs to deal with the last of those damned vagabonds?”

A moment’s silence and then Ser Edmund Rivers speaks. “It seems he has my lord. Lord Edmure has taken some five hundred men at arms with him to pursue the Brotherhood and Lord Beric, and it seems he is confident of finding them.”

Randyll merely nods. “Very well, let the Lord of Riverrun deal with those causing trouble within his lands. But should he show even one bit of inclination in turning his cloak I shall send men to burn him to a mere splint of what he is. Now what more word is there?”

His captain Ser Garth Osgrey speaks. “Well, my lord, it seems that Lord Mace is beginning to prepare for the demonstrations that might well come from King Tommen’s refusal to marry Lady Margaery. It seems our liege lord is determined to bring about the marriage one way or another. And from what I have seen, it seems he might even threaten to bring about the withdrawal of troops from the capital.”

Randyll looks at the man and snorts. “Mace making any sort of definitive choice is something that one must take with a grain of salt. No doubt he talks as if he will do these things, but I truly doubt he will. He wants his daughter to be queen to desperately to risk doing anything that might jeopardize that. Besides, it does not seem as if this king is anything like his brother. King Tommen will not allow for anyone questioning his decisions, but unlike his brother, he will allow Mace to fall on his own sword.” he pauses a moment and then looks at Garth and asks. “You still have the babe?”

Osgrey nods. “I do my lord. Lady Margaery’s child is safe and secure.”

“Good, ensure that the child is within reach should Mace make any sudden movements. And send word to the hand that we have something he might want should Mace begin acting out of the agreement.” Randyll responds.

“Of course my lord.” Garth says, before Randyll dismisses him and Rivers, leaving him alone with his son.

“Why did you allow Garth to leave so readily father?” his son asks.

“Because there are some things that one should not speak of in front of a servant. That is what Garth is. I might have known him since we were both boys, but he works for me, he is not my equal nor shall he be my equal. I mean to speak to you of the king and what it would mean for our family if you were to become friendly with him.” Randyll says.

His son is silent a moment before responding. “And what if the king does not take a liking to me? He does not seem at all like his brother, and King Joffrey was easy to please and get to know.”

“Then you must approach it from a different angle. King Tommen, is not the beast his brother was. But he is a boy all the same, and he likes certain things, you must get to know what those things are, and then when you do, use them.” Randyll says.

His son looks thoughtful for a moment before he replies. “Well I know he likes the Lady Sansa. And I know he likes reading, but other than that I can think of nothing else that might be of use.”

Randyll sighs internally, though Dickon is a good warrior and a good heir, he has not a mind for scheming, not like the other boy did. Still, better Dickon than that fat oaf. He takes a breath and then says. “I know the king likes to ride, Dickon, you must think beyond the mere basics of what you know. You must find out specific details, and use them to your advantage.”

His son looks at him and asks. “Why though? If things truly are going the way you seem to think they are, are we not destined to fall as far as the Tyrells? We are linked with them, and as such might as well suffer their fate.”

Randyll looks at his son for a long moment then, considering all he has taught the lad, and all that it took before he finally got the heir he always wanted. The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if he was perhaps a bit too harsh on the other boy, perhaps if he had been more patient, in the way his father was with him, the boy could have developed and Dickon could have aided him. Taking another breath, Randyll picks up a letter with the king’s stamp on it, and says. “Because the throne knows how to reward those loyal to it.”


	16. The Sound Of Violence

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. The Twins**

**Robb Stark**

His body cried out for blood, it was the aching of the war, coming back to haunt him. His heart wanted to head north and deal a cruel blow to those fools who were hurting his home, to Stannis Baratheon who would dare try and harm his home and establish some heathen god on his soil. Robb wanted to rid the world of Ramsay Snow and end House Bolton for good, he wanted to ensure that House Karstark knew his wrath, for their schemes, and he wanted to speak with Barbrey Dustin and to thank her for her part in all that had happened. Of course he could not yet move, not yet, there was too much that needed to be done and so he remained and he listened.

“Tell me again of what happened at Deepwood Motte.” he says his voice clear.

Donnor Snow, the bastard brother of the Ryswells speaks. “My brother Lord Roger moved and attacked the Ironborn as they tried to flee from the Motte, Your Grace. Lord Roger came with some one thousand men to drive the Ironborn out of the castle and to their deaths.”

“And what of Asha Greyjoy, what became of her?” Robb asks.

“She was captured, just as you asked her to be, Your Grace.” Snow responds. “She is being held within the cells of the Barrow Hall.”

“Good, let her rot there until I return north. Has she said anything of use?” Robb says.

Snow is silent for a moment and then he responds. “She has said many things Your Grace. She speaks of the moment her father sent her to take Deepwood Motte, of how Theon Turncloak devised the plan to take Winterfell, and how he harboured a secret before his death.”

Robb looks at the man interested now. “And what was this secret did she say?”

A moment’s silence and then. “He did not kill Prince Brandon and Prince Rickon, Your Grace. The Lady Asha said that the Turncloak could not find it within him to do such a thing, not after having seen them grow up. It is the one good thing he did, she said.”

Robb feels his heart speed up at the words the man says. Such news is more than he could have hoped for, but it also makes him feel foolish, all that happened, all the treachery, it came from that one piece of news and now, gods he feels anger, much anger. Looking at Snow, he keeps his face expressionless and says. “This is good news if it is true, but Greyjoy might well be lying, and as such until there is definitive proof that what she says is true, I do not want word of this getting out. You will tell Lord Roger that.” The man nods and Robb goes on. “What more did she say?”

“She spoke of her uncles, the Crow’s Eye and Victarion Greyjoy. She said that she knows how to make them break apart and fight one another, if you wished to enter into an alliance with her.” Snow says.

There is a chorus of laughter at that, and Dacey says. “A Northman ally with an Ironborn, a Greyjoy at that? She must be out of her right mind.”

There is even more laughter at that, and Robb holds up a hand and merely says. “Unless she gives me a valid reason to wish to support her bid for some pile of rocks, she can remain within that cell for now. You may leave Donnor.” The man bends and turns and leaves.

Once the man has left, Robb turns to the figure standing at the foot of the throne, who comes forward and speaks. “All is going according to plan my lord. Jon knows where he must go now to seek the answers he wishes to find.”

“Very good, but one must wonder whether or not the fool will actually leave that damned wall. He always wanted to be there, and now, well who knows what he wants. We are not the same anymore. He will find safe passage?” Robb responds.

“He will my lord,” Howland replies. “Jyanna will ensure that none try and do him harm. Though the Watch might well be an issue.”

“The Watch will do as I tell them to. They owe the fact that they even have something left to call home to Winterfell. If Ser Allister is the man you say he is, then it should be no trouble. So long as Jon gets to Breakstone Hall before the turn of the moon, all should be well.” Robb says.

“He will my lord, have no fear of that.” Howland responds.

Robb nods then, and then turns to the other recent arrival. “Ser Desmond what word do you bring from the south? How fares my uncle against those fools in the brotherhood?”

Ser Desmond Grell was an old man, old as nails, but true. “He does well my king. Lord Edmure is finding them and bringing them down per size, though one band of the party continues to evade him. It is believed this might well be the party led by the mysterious stone lady.”

“What of my other uncle, Ser Brynden? How does he fare?” Robb asks.

“He holds Riverrun, just as asked Your Grace. Though he grumbles about this thing or the other, he does his duty. There is one thing he wished for me to speak to you about though Sire. And that was the issue of Black Walder Frey.” Grell says tentatively.

Robb sighs then, the Lord of the Twins had been a good solider and a loyal lord for a time, but since sending him to King’s Landing, Robb had begun sensing a change in the man. “What has the man done?”

Grell looks at him then and says softly. “It is not what he has done, and more what he intends to do.”

“And what is that?” Robb asks.

“He intends to use his position within the capital to make an advancement on the Lady Sansa. We had word of it from within his party, he spoke of it after one too many cups of wine.” Grell says hurriedly.

Robb considers this a moment and then says. “I suppose it is time we reminded the man who it is he owes his loyalty to.” He pauses and then looks toward Dacey and says. “Bring the man’s brothers here, as well as his son. It is time they met their end, as I said they would.”

* * *

 

**The Great Pyramid, Meeren**

**Queen Daenaerys Targaryen**

Her heart ached as she sat atop her throne and saw the bodies being moved from the throne room. The bodies of yet more slain, the work of the Sons of the Harpy, destined forever to fight in perpetuity against those who would try and free them from their curse. Daenaerys did not know why they continued to do as they did, but she knew she could not tolerate them for much longer, she knew sooner rather than later, she would need to find the Harpy and have them removed from power, for good. She looks at her husband and asks. “Have you found out any more to what you said you would find?”

Her husband, Hizdahr Zo Loraq, a worm if ever there was one, looks at her a moment surprised and then he says. “I have found one thing, the same thing that my men have found almost everywhere.”

“And what is that?” Dany asks her patience running thin.

“They are killing those who guard the city that they once worked for. The Slaves of Meeren are falling by their dozens, and as such there is more and more chaos by the day. The noble born fear for their families and for their lives, and the slaves grow angrier. Something must be done soon my wife, otherwise, there will be blood on the streets.” Her husband replies.

“And what must be done then, husband of mine? I cannot go after the nobles for they would riot. I cannot tell my children to go back into their servitude. I have reopened the fighting pits, and damned well nearly suffered for it. So what would you have me do?” she responds.

“Take to the streets, and show them that you are proud of being their ruler. The people want a Queen, give them a queen.” her husband says.

“And what would that do, but her in the line of fire?” the commander of the Brazen beasts says. “The nobles would rather see her dead then accept her as Queen. Do not lie Loraq, you know damned well that something else is going on here.”

“What are you suggesting, Shavepate?” her husband asks bitingly.

“You know damned well what I am suggesting Loraq. And until you give me reason to believe otherwise, I will stand by what I said.” the Shavepate says.

“Enough!” Dany barks. “Enough of this foolishness. Whether or not there are traitors within our ranks is an argument for another time. There is a very real threat outside our walls, and our food is running low, there is chaos on all sides. Yunkai has gone back on its agreement, and Volantis is coming for us as well. I would know how you all plan on sorting that out?”

A long silence and then her husband speaks. “I know the commander of Yunkai’s forces, we have been friends for a time, and I can speak to him, and convince him of ending this farce once and for all.”

“And no doubt have us all killed in the process.” The Shavepate says.

“Enough!” Daenaerys shouts. “Enough of this bickering. Our people are dying, there is a threat within our walls and without. I will not allow petty grievances to bring us down further into chaos. We must stand united, or we must fall on our own swords.”

“What are you suggesting my queen?” her husband asks.

Dany looks at him and merely responds. “Go, speak with the fifteen families, and tell them they are welcome to come here tonight. It is time we spoke about what is good for Meeren and what must needs be done for it. And send word that should the Harpy wish it, I will speak with them as well. I am done hiding.”

Her husband looks at her surprised, and then he quickly stands and says. “I shall get to it at once.” Dany watches him hurry out of the room, and when the doors close behind him she laughs.

Turning to the Shavepate she says. “When he leaves this place, I want your men to have him arrested, and then tried. It is time we deal with these fools.”

“I will do so gladly.” the man responds.

Ser Barristan looks at her then and asks. “Are you certain that is wise Your Grace? The man is keeping the city from opening into war, is it not better to keep him at arm’s length?”

Dany looks at the old knight and merely says. “You once told me, that my father was a man who did what he said, and yet he is known as the mad King, my grandfather was a frail man, and yet my great grandfather gave nothing and everything. I do believe it is time, I showed these people what it means to play with fire. Ser Barristan, if you would come with me, there is something I must show you.”

She stands then and walks down from her throne, Ser Barristan follows her, and they walk in silence for a long time, before reaching the place where her true children are kept. She walks through the gap, and in the darkness she waits, and waits, and then when she sees the eyes of Viserion and Rhaegel emerge, she says. “It is time that I used what I have been given. I will not hide. I will not cower before them. I am no girl anymore, I am a queen, and queens do not hide.”

“What will you do Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asks.

Dany turns round and looks at him a moment, before turning back and smiling. “I will give these fools what they have always wanted. They can have their city if they so wish, but they will not get it until such a time as they have learned what it means to fight a dragon.” she pauses a moment and then says. “I shall give them fire and blood.” with that she smiles and whistles, and her dragons roar, the sound sets her blood on fire.


	17. Gift of Pain

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Oberyn Martell**

King’s Landing, the infested snake hole had not changed, not one bit since the days when Elia graced it with her presence. Elia, the sister who had been taken from them far too early, something that not been addressed. Doran could delay all he wanted, but Oberyn wanted justice, and he wanted it now. The King declaring the imp free of all charges had hindered his plans, but there was time yet left for him to enact why he had come to court, and he was determined to see it done. Even if it cost him his life.

“So tell me Lord Tyrion, has the king told you what he wishes you to do for him, now that you owe him your life?” Oberyn asks.

The imp is silent a moment and then responds. “I do believe His Grace has need of me here. After all, his mother was someone who definitely did not support his decision, and there is a need for good decent counsellors.”

Oberyn laughs then a moment. “With the fat flower and the incompetent Rosby on the council, alongside the spider, I cannot say I blame the king for wanting more able bodied counsellors. Though I must ask, why would you wish to serve here? Surely you would want to see to it that your inheritance is secured, and then ensure your father never gets the chance to remove it from you?

The dwarf is silent a moment and then laughs. “I do not think that is my concern for now. Yes my sister seemed bent on my death, but she failed, and because of that, I must ensure that she is removed from power for good. My father can try to achieve what he wants regarding the succession to the Rock, but I will not allow him to get too far. Nor do I think the king will either.”

Oberyn looks at the dwarf and asks. “You seem sure that the king will allow you the chance to advance through until you have that power. What makes you think that?”

The dwarf stares back at him and then says. “Tommen is not his brother, he has a good heart, and he knows how to reward those who were loyal to him. I have been nothing but loyal to him. I have no doubt that he will ensure that in the end there is a reward there for me.”

Oberyn is silent a moment and then says. “And what of those who are guilty of the most heinous of crimes, those who hide behind their liege lords like little girls? When will the king see fit to bring their end about?”

 The dwarf moves somewhat uncomfortably then. “Prince Oberyn, these charges are somewhat unfounded would you not say? After all, they were never formally presented before any official of the kingdom. There is no proof.”

Oberyn feels his anger begin to grow then. “Do not play the fool with me Tyrion. You know as well as I do, that they did the deeds, and that they would not have done it without your father’s permission. Your father, who need I remind you wanted you dead just as much as your sister, so why then do you continue to defend him?”

“It is because he is my father, that I do this.” the dwarf replies. “I cannot openly condemn him to death, I am no kinslayer. I know he is not the best of men, but he is still my father, and to be seen doing something like that, well it would harm my chances.”

“Chances of what?” Oberyn asks. “Of becoming Lord of the Rock? You hold the king’s ear, if you are as smart as you seem, you will use that to your advantage. Do not be fooled by the lull in the storm, there is going to be another attempt at discrediting you and it is time you learned to end that.”

There is a moment’s silence and then the dwarf sighs and says. “What do you wish me to do?”

“I want you to merely prepare the way for me. Your father is an old man, his system shall be weakening, give him more reason to weaken, and ensure that he has no reason to suspect you. I shall take care of the rest.” Oberyn responds, before he stops and turns and walks away from the imp, back toward his own chambers.

He does not stop walking until he is safely within his own chambers, he is not a naïve child anymore, he knows the dangers of King’s Landing, and so he is unsurprised when he sees the spider speaking to Ellaria.  “Ah Prince Oberyn, so glad that you are here. I was just saying to Lady Ellaria here, that it is so good that Prince Doran is willing to ally with the crown once more.”

Oberyn looks at his lover a moment, and then looks toward the Spider and says. “I am sure you were saying just that, but I would know what it is that you are here for.”

The Spider titters a moment and then he says. “I am merely here to see how two of our most valued guests are feeling. There has been so much excitement at court as of late that I fear I have not been able to do you much service.”

“Get to the point Lord Varys. What are you here for?” Oberyn snaps.

Ellaria lays a hand on his arm and whispers. “Patience my love. Patience.”

The eunuch titters and then in a much deeper voice responds. “I have come here to ensure you have not forgotten the pledge you made all those years ago.  The dragons are returning, and the time will soon come for you and Dorne to rally to their banners. Do not forget that in the midst of your quest for revenge.”

Oberyn stares at the man a moment and then says. “I forget nothing.” The eunuch bows and then turns and disappears, leaving Oberyn alone with his lover. They look at one another a moment and then Oberyn whispers. “It is done, the imp shall begin the deed.”

“Good, now the lady might well leave us alone.” Ellaria responds.

“We might all hope, I do not know whether she will. Lady Joanna can be rather persistent in these things.” he replies.

* * *

 

  **King Tommen I Baratheon**

It was good to finally have some peace, even if it was for a brief moment. His grandfather was handling the Tyrell situation with some secrecy, and as for the Dornish situation well, that was something that was going to be worked on once his marriage was sorted. The marriage, now that was something that had been playing on his mind for some time, gods he just wanted to get it done and dusted, and yet something was holding it all back. He was frustrated with that and he was trying to find some way to reverse it.

“You’ve got that look again my love.” Sansa says, snapping him out of his reverie.

“What look?” Tommen asks.

“The look where it seems as if there is something unpleasant on your mind. Am I truly that much of bad company for you?” Sansa teases.

Tommen blushes. “No, it’s not that, it’s just that, well everything seems to be moving so slowly. The Tyrells are being looked into, the Dornish are happy for now, and yet something is still preventing us from being together. I do not know what it is, but there is something stopping us from being together, and it is angering me.”

His love takes his hand and says. “You are the king, my love. Whatever you want can be achieved, there is nothing beyond your reach. All you need to do is say what you want and they will ensure it will be done.”

Tommen looks at Sansa then and smiles sadly. “I think it is a bit more complicated than that my love. There are many other things that might need to get done before we can get married.”

“I think you’re just scared my love.” Sansa says, and before he can protest she puts a finger to his mouth and says. “No, don’t deny it, I think you are truly scared of something, and I am not sure of what.”

Tommen can feel heat rushing to his face, and he gives into the urge and kisses Sansa’s finger, causing her to giggle. He grins then and pulls back and says. “Well, I think I might well change that. I shall go and speak to the High Septon this very day.”

Sansa smiles at him then and responds. “Oh will you now? And will you just leave me here?”

Tommen looks at her and then at their joined hands. “Oh, I don’t think I could ever leave you. Not again, not ever again.” he leans forward then and kisses her. He feels something akin to pleasure run through him when she leans into the kiss and replies in kind.

He kisses her and kisses her until they have to break apart for air, and when he sees the flush on her skin, he feels something akin to pride. “Your blushing Sansa.” he says teasingly.

“So are you Your Grace.” she replies.

Tommen looks at her and then says. “Well come here.”

Sansa moves towards him then, but before he can bring her closer toward him, there is a knock on the door and Ser Meryn Trant opens the door and says. “Begging your pardon Your Grace, but the Queen Dowager is here, she wishes to speak to you.”

Tommen sighs. “Very well, send her in.”

Sansa sits back down in her chair, and Tommen remains seated in his, as his mother walks in looking haggard, and smelling of wine. “Well what do we have here? A young wolf trying to charm another stag. Well, well, a traitor never does learn, now does she?”

“What do you want mother?” Tommen asks.

His mother sways slightly as she turns to look at him. “Not going to offer your own mother a seat? Whatever happened to your manners boy?”

Tommen looks at his mother and sighs. “Would you like a seat then mother?”

His mother shakes her head and replies. “No. I will not sit down, I do not wish to stay for long. I merely wanted to ask, why you want to marry a traitor.”

Tommen feels anger rise inside of him then. “Sansa is not a traitor, she has been cleared of all wrong doing, as has Tyrion. Now if you have nothing more to say, please leave.”

His mother does a curtsey then, but sways unsteadily, Tommen stands up then, not wanting her to fall. “Sansa, Sansa, what is it with you Baratheons and your infatuation with Stark girls. What this whore have that I do not? What does she have that a Lannister does not have? The sister of a traitor, daughter of another, and yet still the Baratheons insist on keeping her around. I do not understand it.”

Tommen looks at his mother and then says. “Leave mother, you are drunk, and I have no wish to discuss things with you, if you are in this state.”

His mother sways some more and then says. “You are not a true Lannister, you are a mistake. You always were, I should have been more careful. Something that happened once should never have happened again. Only Jaime should have given me children, not that oaf, never that oaf.”

Tommen feels himself shake then. “What do you mean?”

“Joffrey was a true Lannister, a trueborn lion through and through, as is Myrcella. But you, you” his mother sways then, a finger pointed at him. “You were a mistake, a very big mistake. I should never have allowed Robert to fill me the way he did.” His mother sways once more, and Tommen feels as if he is going to be sick.

“Ser Meryn, take my mother back to her chambers.” Tommen calls out, and the knight takes one of his mother’s hands and leads her away from the room. Once his mother is gone, Tommen remains silent for a long time, before he too moves toward the door.

“Where are you going my love?” Sansa asks.

Tommen stops before the door and says. “I am going off to think.” He walks out of the room, and walks down the hallway, watching as Ser Meryn carries his mother off back to her chambers. He stops there for a moment and then hears someone call his name, stopping he sees a short man walking toward him. “What do you want?” he asks the man. The man says nothing but merely gives him a piece of paper and then walks off.

Tommen looks at the note and sighs. _Come to the Godswood tonight, wolves and stags must dance once more._


	18. Silence In The Snow

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The note felt heavy within his hand, his heart hammers in his chest, he wonders who the person had come from, and what they might want from him. Still, he would want to go and see what this person wanted, and he would try and give it to them, should the need arise. He continued out of Maegor’s holdfast, with Ser Balon Swann and the Kettleblack walking behind him, as the godswood comes into sight Tommen speaks. “Wait here, I shall call, should I need help.” the two knights nod, and he walks into the godswood.

The sun is blocked by the trees within the wood, and as such, there is a darkness that engulfs him, for the time it is inviting but Tommen knows that it could be sinister should it so chose. A thought that is proven by the dead body before him, he shudders and then walks on, stopping near the heart tree, a terrifying thing with weeping red eyes. He stands there in silence for a moment and then calls out. “I have come, as asked. Show yourself.”

There is a long silence, and then a man with long brown hair, a long face and grey eyes comes forward. The man bows and then stands. “Your Grace, very glad that you could make it. I was not sure whether or not Aemon would give the message to you in time.”

Tommen looks at the man and then asks. “Who are you? And what do you want?”

The man smiles and replies. “I am Ser Theodan Wells, a member of the High Sparrow’s knight and a servant to Robb Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Lord of Winter.”

Tommen feels something akin to surprise run through him then. “What?! Stark is dead, he was slain at his uncle’s wedding. What nonsense are you speaking?”

Wells smiles then. “Ah but he was not. And I think a part of you always thought that. Was it not too convenient, that suddenly he died, and the riverlands suddenly gave into your brother’s regime? If the man was truly dead, do you honestly think they would have given in so easily?”

Tommen looks at the man and then responds. “No. But then why has he allowed this to happen? Why has he allowed his kingdom to fall before the throne, and not stood firm and brought resistance to us?”

Wells’ smile only gets wider then. “Because, he knows that the future rests easier with you on the throne than with some wider struggle that would only cost more lives. Lord Robb knows that more can be done to bring about justice to the realm through peace than through war.”

Tommen looks at the man and wonders at this. “Why has he sent you? A man who is sworn to a fanatic of the faith, than come himself, or even sent someone who might have been more believable?”

Wells laughs then. “Come now Your Grace, you do not truly think the High Sparrow is truly some Andal zealot, determined to bring about the restoration of the Faith? Can you not see how his rise began following the fall of the Starks?”

Tommen thinks about this a moment and then says. “Stark had a hand in that? What other pies does he have his fingers in?”

Wells laughs once more. “Well consider this Your Grace, the issues with the Riverlands could have been a lot worse had things not gone the way they had. A nameday gift from Lord Robb.”

Tommen grins then. “Oh so that is how he thinks to win himself into my good graces then is it? Through using the issues within the Riverlands as proof that he knows how to settle politics. And yet, the one thing I do wonder is why has he waited for this long, before coming toward me?”

Wells looks at him a moment and then says. “I believe it was because he needed to ensure that you were not like your brother. Forgive me for saying this, but King Joffrey was not within his right mind, and as such it would have looked odd had Lord Robb made these plans in order to make good with a king he had fought so long and hard against.”

Tommen considers this a moment. “I note you refer to him as Lord Robb, and not as King. Why is that? Has the man finally realised that the best hope for the north is to fight alongside the throne, and last through winter with us. And I must ask, why did he not try to come and fight for me whilst my brother was still alive?”

There is a moment’s silence, and then Wells asks. “And when your brother was alive, did you ever consider rebelling against him? Or were you more interested in learning how to play?”

Tommen snorts then. “Ah very good Ser Wells. Very good. Yes, I suppose you are right, my brother needed to be brought down before things could get interesting. So then tell me, what is it that your lord wants from the throne? I do not think he would have sent you here without wanting something in return.”

The wind whips through the trees, and Tommen shivers a moment, Wells has a moment’s look of pride then and then says. “He wants a promise that his family shall be pardoned of all and any wrongdoing that they might well have committed. In return for this he shall give his consent for you to marry his sister the Lady Sansa. Furthermore, he wishes for all of his titles to be confirmed to him, and he shall work with you in an alliance to remove the crown’s enemies from power.”

Tommen looks at the man a moment and then asks. “And what of his father? What does Stark done about Lord Eddard?”

A moment’s silence and then. “He wants Lord Eddard pardoned, after all your brother was the bastard and you are not.”

Tommen ponders this a moment and then responds. “Very well, tell him I accept. Go back to your master and tell him to put his plans into motion. I shall expect him soon enough.”

* * *

 

**Castle Black**

**Jon Snow**

His mind plagued him with visions, visions of darkness and a never ending death. The Others were coming, and yet there was nothing he could do to change it, they were coming and he would have to flee. He knew he had to flee, otherwise the world would fall. He was not sure what made him so sure of this, but he knew, he just knew deep within himself, that unless he left the wall, something would end up breaking. Already they were getting ready for his death, why not make it easier for them? He stands before the council of elders and says. “I admit I have not always done what my vows entail, but I know I have not committed as many sins as some of those who sit before me.”

“You would do well to watch your tongue Snow.” Cotter Pyke barks.

“No, let the bastard speak. I am curious to see what excuses he comes up with.” Ser Allister says.

Jon stares at the man, and Thorne meets his stare with one of his own. “I know that, there are many here who would wish to see me dead, for some crime or the other. My father’s name did not do me any favours when I came here, but I have more than proven myself worthy of the Night’s Watch. I will not apologise for what I have done, for I did it for the Watch. I think it shows that we are now struggling to maintain the hold over the wall, and with the wildlings coming, we need more men than ever.”

“What exactly are you suggesting then Snow?” Denys Mallister asks. “That we pardon you of the offenses you have admitted to, and simply allow you to continue serving? You, who killed the Halfhand and lay with a wildling woman? You who gave the wildlings a way to bring about our downfall? Why should we do that?”

“Because you allow brothers of the watch to venture down to Mole’s Town and break their vows with the whores there. Why should it be different for me?” Jon responds. “I am merely doing what I was asked to do by my superiors. I have not broken any vows, I have claimed no lands, and have claimed no titles. And have no children. I have done all that was asked and more. Why punish me for that?”

There is a long silence then, and as it stretches on, Jon begins wondering whether or not he will ever be given a response. Finally, it is Maester Aemon who speaks, though his voice is very soft. “You have done what was necessary for your survival, and the survival of the Watch. But the Watch has not done what was necessary to protect you.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asks.

“What Maester Aemon means, is that, it is time for us to let you go. Not because you have done wrong, but because it is in our interests to let you go. There are those who would try to have you killed, and right now, we cannot afford that. The Watch cannot be divided, and you would only divide the Watch. And so, as of right now, you are no longer a sworn brother.” Ser Allister says.

“You would let him go? Why, is he getting the special favour?” Mallister asks. “What is special about him, so special that requires him to be freed to prevent war?”

“I would ensure that he is out and away from here, before war is even necessary.” Thorne replies. There is a moment’s silence and then the man looks at him and says. “Go, leave Jon Snow, and never return. You have one hour.”

Jon stands there for a long moment, speechless, not entirely sure what is happening, but then he turns and walks out of the room, and back toward his own room. That it was Thorne and not someone else fighting for him, is somewhat of a surprise. He opens the doors of his room, and then grabs what few belongings he has, packs them into a bag, and then walks out of the room, Ghost at his side. He walks toward the stables, but instead of finding a horse, he finds the mossy haired child there waiting for him. “What do you want?” Jon snaps.

The figure merely looks at him a moment and then they respond. “We cannot go by horseback Jon Snow. We must walk to where you must go.”

“Walk? Why walk? Where are we going?” Jon asks.

“To a play where royalty once stayed, and to a place where your ancestor remains, haunting the woods and the river as if they are one of them.” the figure says.

“Why must you persist in these damned riddles?” Jon snaps. “Why not simply tell me straight, what it is you mean?”

“The answers are in the riddles, Jon Snow. Know this, and you shall find the truth you seek. Now quickly, we must leave from here and be gone.” the figure responds.

Jon sighs, but he ignores the figure’s advice, and instead begins saddling his horse, once that is done, he leads the horse from the stables, and out into the open air. He mounts the horse and spurs the horse on toward the open gate, something no doubt arranged by Thorne, and not even stopping to check if the figure is following him, Jon rides out from Castle Black without a second thought. Well that is not quite true, he thinks of Sam, Grenn and Pyp, and of Ed, and he wonders if he is doing the right thing, but then he thinks of Sam’s harsh last words, and how none of them ever came to see him whilst he was a prisoner and he decides good riddance. He rides out of the castle and keeps riding without ever looking back.

It is not until he is nearing the outskirts of Mole’s Town that he realises that the figure has not said anything, and he looks around, and finds that he is alone. The figure is nowhere in sight. 


	19. Golgotha

****

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. The Twins**

**Lord Robb Stark**

His mind was plagued with visions of death and destruction. He had killed many men during the war, and he knew that before he could finally have peace there would be more blood on his hands. If he were being honest with himself, Robb knew he did not know how he truly felt about all of that. Was it better to kill men in battle, as his father would do, and risk making more children orphans, or was it better to kill the commanders at a feast, where there was still hope for the innocents. He did not know, and that uncertainty gnawed away at him.

As the Stark, he could not show any of this uncertainty, doing so would only bring risk upon himself and those he cared about, and so as he looked around the solar of the twins, he rubbed his cheek where his beard sat comfortably. “What word has come from Ser Theodan?”

Dacey, ever steadfast and loyal responds. “It seems the knight has spoken to King Tommen Baratheon, and their conversation went well. There was much and more discussed during their conversation, and it seems that over all the Baratheon king was receptive to the terms outlined and the things discussed.”

“Good, that is very good. Does Theodan say what it is the king wishes in return?” Robb asks.

Dacey is silent a moment and then replies. “I believe that King Tommen wishes for you to come to King’s Landing in person to formally swear allegiance to him and the Iron Throne.”

“A smart move that,” Robb muses. “This king is not his brother, no man shall make a true fool out of him. I can respect that. Very well, I believe the time to move from the shadows has finally presented itself.”

There is a murmur at that, and then Lord Axell Glenmore speaks up. “Forgive me sire, but if I might be so bold as to ask, why are you so willing to bend the knee? Did you not spend two years fighting the boy on the Iron Throne, and did you not bring the north its freedom after years of false bondage? Why then are you so willing to place us back into such a thing?”

Robb looks at Glenmore and responds. “I can appreciate your concerns my lord. But I must respond by saying, this thing I am contemplating is not putting us into bondage, the dragons are dead, we are amongst equals, and this King is not his brother. We can achieve fairer terms under King Tommen than we ever could under his brother or any dragon. Besides, this king wishes to marry my sister, the Lady Sansa, that is a marriage we can use to our advantage.”

“You mean, that you can use to your advantage my lord.” Ser Garth Locke says. “After all, it is the Starks who shall benefit from the marriage, as they would have done had Lady Sansa married the ill born.”

Robb feels anger boil inside of him then, but manages to suppress it. “I resent that accusation Ser Garth. I am not my father, I know how to play the dance that these southrons are so fond of playing. Yes the north is in trouble now, but simply becoming independent again would not solve the troubles we face. The Ironborn have ravaged us, and there is infighting within our lands. Only by allying with the Iron Throne and swearing fealty can we ensure that we benefit the most. We have many raw materials within the land that have not been used. My forebearers were very lax when it came to such things, I do not intend to be so lax. It is time the north showed just how powerful she is. And it is time we ensured we had a presence at court.”

There is a long moment of silence and then another voice rings out. “How can you be so sure that we shall get the benefits you speak of sire? After all, Tywin Lannister is still alive, and so long as that old man breathes, you can be sure that the young king will find himself stuck to do anything.”

“A valid point, and one I am glad you have raised.” Robb responds calmly. “I do believe that the best way to ensure Tywin Lannister’s power is negated, is to throw him off course. Right now he believes that I am dead, that the north is broken, as you all know that is not the case, it is time to show that we are alive and well. It is time Tywin Lannister found his power questioned. After all, I have done more to ensure the security of the riverlands than he ever could have. It is time we saw there was more to us than just being good at war.”

“And what of the north Sire?” Glenmore asks. “The north is bleeding, she is being plundered by Ironborn and by Bolton and Karstark and Baratheon. What will you do there? Will you allow her to continue to be abused? Or will you raise the standard and fight?”

All eyes are upon him now, and Robb feels some of the old nerves come back to him, but he pushes them down. He is not a child anymore, he has been a king and has killed. He is a man. “I will bring fire and blood to those who dare hurt her. The north is our home, and it is time she was freed from the throes of those greedy shits who would break her. When I am done in the south, I shall ride forth with more men than any of the pretenders could believe possible and destroy them.”

“And until that time?”

Robb grins. “Why, I have a marriage to arrange. For a lord must have an heir, and I must ensure that my enemies are thrown off of the course for as long as possible.”

* * *

 

**Meeren**

**Prince Quentyn Martell**

His father had given him an important task, to woo and wed Queen Daenaerys, and to ensure that she came to Dorne with her army. It was time for revenge, the time for waiting was over, and as such Quentyn knew that he had an important role to play. And yet he felt as unsuited to this as he had felt for almost everything else within his life. He did not know how to woo a woman who was the most beautiful one in the world. It seemed almost impossible to do that, and the fact that she was already married made things all the worse. Gods alone knew where and when he would get the chance to do anything about it. It frustrated him, and the fact his companions were so determined to make it harder for him, well that was just his lot in life.

“Why are you so damned determined to woo her Quent?” Gerris asks. “You’ve seen what she’s got here, she blew you off the moment you entered the throne room. There’s no point in trying again, she’s too shallow to realise any benefit in what you propose.”

 _If it had been you making the proposal, no doubt she would have jumped at the opportunity, just as all the other girls do._ Quentyn thinks bitterly. He takes a moment to reply, and when he does, he hears the same boring words coming out of his mouth, the words he has used to convince himself that his father has not just sent him here to die. “Because, this is what the Prince of Dorne has asked of me, and this is what is needed to ensure that we have justice for the wrongs done to us.”

Gerris laughs then. “Surely you cannot believe that Quent? We both know that your uncle is in King’s Landing, no doubt determined to get something or the other from King’s Landing, and then there is the fact that your brother is betrothed to Princess Myrcella, what is there to say your father has not merely decided to use you as bait?”

Quentyn looks at his friend, anger rising inside of him, he knows that perhaps he should not be falling for the same old tricks, but he has increasingly been thinking this himself. “I do not know. But my father, is my father, why would he want to give me up for slaughter?”

Gerris snorts, and Cletus speaks then. “You are not being serious are you Quent? The man sent you to foster in Yronwood when you but a babe, he has not spoken you in nigh on six years before he suddenly summoned you to speak about this mission. A mission which is nigh impossible, and the fact that he mentioned some pact that this woman did not even know of, well I think it is damn near impossible that he is being serious about it. Something else is going on here Quent.”

Quentyn looks at his foster brother and asks. “And just what might that be? What other games could my father be playing?”

“Who knows what games the Prince of Dorne is playing? His brother has done more for the Dornish people than he ever has, it was Prince Oberyn who brought Princess Elia and her children’s bones home, and it was he who made the damned pact with the Targaryen bitch’s brother. Who knows what Doran Martell is doing, or what he intends to do. What I think is that Arianne is involved in this.” Gerris says.

Quentyn wants to issue a denial, he wants to defend his sister, but how do you defend someone you do not even know? “I…I…why? We are family, and family does not turn on one another.”

Cletus snorts. “Maybe in House Yronwood Quent, but in the Martell family, well you know as well as I do, the disagreements between your father and uncle that led to this situation, as well as the arguments between your grandmother and great uncle. House Martell has not been united for many a generation, it would not surprise me if the father has chosen the daughter over you. He always did have a soft spot for Arianne.”

Quentyn runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “What would you have me do? I cannot fail my father, and I will not leave here until I get confirmation that the Queen is indeed leaving for Westeros. Until then, what am I supposed to do?”

A long silence falls between the three friends then, interrupted only by the odd sound of crying and yelling, not a strange thing for Meeren, there is something about this damned city that is so unnerving to Quentyn, something within his bones that cries out against it. He despises this place, just as he is growing to despise the Queen, who continues to reject his proposals and his advances, it is because he is not that sellsword, or Gerris or even Cletus, he is not the best looking of people and therefore he is not getting an ear to speak to. He could hate the Queen for that, he could hate her a lot. He misses Gwen, and the way she would laugh and look at him as if he were the only person who mattered in the world. For the time he was with her, he never felt inconsequential, as if he were something instead of nothing. He might never get to see her again, not with the way this is going, and he could curse his father for that. It is he who breaks the silence. “Enough of this waiting around. I shall not allow this woman to ignore me any longer. I shall prove to her that I am more than she deserves, I am better than her, I am a Prince of Dorne and I will make her listen to me.”

“How will you do that Quent?” Cletus asks.

Quentyn looks at his friend then and says. “I shall take the thing she holds most dear and use it against her. Her children and her lover. Let her watch as they are turned against her. Send for my cousin, it is time she was used for good.”


	20. Drums of Destiny

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. Meeren**

**Queen Daenaerys Targaryen**

As Dany looked at the people gathered in the throne room, she could not help but think that perhaps she should have done this earlier. Her husband had been taken care of, the Shavepate had seen to that, his head now adorned a spike atop one of the city walls, a message to his allies in Yunkai. And now she had to deal with those fools below her, who would seek to remove her from power, she who had tried so hard to make them see the error of their ways. It was infuriating, that they would dare try and clash with her, the Blood of the Dragon.

“My eminent graces, I thank you all for agreeing to meet with me here.” Dany begins. “I know we have not always had a easy relationship, but I would hope that in light of recent events, we could perhaps work together to form a coherent structure of government for Meeren and her people.”

“Tell me Your Grace, is that why your husband’s head adorns a spike on the city walls, along with those of his family?” Lorat Merreq, head of House Merreq asks.

Dany looks at the man with disdain. “His head sits those walls because he was a traitor, he confessed to having allied with Yunkai just before our marriage, and working toward bringing me down to the ground. He broke the terms of the peace, and our marriage, and he has suffered for it. Just as his traitorous family has as well.”

“So his nieces and nephews who were no more than babes required death as well did they?” Merreq asks.

There is some murmuring at that and Dany feels her anger grow, she takes a deep breath though, now is not the time, not yet, she must keep them talking. “I regret the actions that needed to be taken with regards to the House of Loraq, but I do believe they were necessary. The house had shown itself to be bent on lies and corruption, I could not allow such a thing to continue. All had to pay the price, let that be a lesson to you all.”

“Pah, you claim to be enlightened, and yet you are nothing but a tyrant dressed as a woman. I always knew this, and I should have had you killed when I had the chance.” Alor Yherizan head of that house snaps.

“You will watch your tongue, or I will cut it out for you.” Ser Barristan barks his hand on his sword.

“Let him speak Ser. I would hear what this man has to say.” Dany says calmly.

Yherizan looks shocked at this, but he goes on regardless. “You sit there, atop your throne, and yet you know nothing of the people you would rule. You sit there, making judgements and changing the laws, laws that are centuries old, and yet you do not consult with us? We will never support you, we would rather eat our own children than support someone such as you.”

Dany looks at the man, struggling to contain her anger. “Your culture is outdated and barbaric. I have given you all the chance to try and adapt to this new regime, progress only comes when there is change. Not when there is stagnation, you have all been stagnate for too long. It ends now.”

“Pah.” the Naqqan of Naqqan spits. “You speak honeyed lies on a tongue that is not fit for anything but sucking my cock.”

“Watch yourself.” Ser Barristan growls

The Naqqan looks at him then and sneers. “You, old man, tell me what do you see when you look at this girl here. She claims to want to rule, and yet she relies not on any trueborn Meerenese person but on some eunuch and a man who is not fit for anything other than war. You fought under her father, the mad king, tell me, what was it the mad king always used to say? A man burnt alive is better than a man whole. He did the slaughter of many, and now this girl, his daughter is doing the same. Tell me how could you sit there and allow that?”

Ser Barristan looks horrified, and Dany knows she will need to speak with him later, but for now she merely looks at the Naqqan and says. “You did not have a problem with any of this before now my good man. Tell me, what is it that has changed your mind so? Is it the fact that your ally is now dead, or the fact that you are going to be next?” she laughs then. “Oh do not look so surprised, did you truly think I would not find out about your connection to the Harpy? I got it from my husband before he died. He also admitted many other things about the two of you as well, alas, a shame he could not admit it all. But still, now that we have this, let me see how many ways I could kill you all.”

“You would see us all dead Your Grace?” Khalara Ghazeen asks. “Even those of us who have stood by you through thick and thin? Why?”

“For there to be true change, there must be new houses to rise from the ashes. I will not allow the old to drag the new down. You must all pay the price for the follies of your ancestors, and now you shall.” Dany replies clapping her hands, thus signalling to the Brazen Beasts and Unsullied to enter.

“You will suffer for this!” someone shouts.

“The Harpy will have her revenge. You cannot kill all of her children.” Someone else screams.

As the beasts move in on the heads of the families, and as she knows is being done to their family members elsewhere, Dany merely looks at them and replies. “I can and I will. Kill them.” As the screams echo throughout the hall, she turns to Ser Barristan and says. “It is time, let us release the dragons on these fools.”

 

* * *

**Volon Therys**

**Jon Connington**

The whole time, it had been a ruse, a ruse this whole time. The message, it had been a lie, the company had never left Volon Therys, whoever had been put in the fat man’s pay was a liar, and the question was, who as behind that. So many questions, not enough answers, and all the time, Jon had a nagging doubt, something or someone had been following them, he was not sure what, or who, but he knew something had, he could feel it within his bones. It was making him go mad, and he knew others felt it as well.

“The fat man has gone mad, if he thinks this will work.” Ser Tristan Rivers says. “We cannot be expected to go to Meeren now, the whole damned city is going in flames, because of the king’s aunt. She is doing things that are just bad business.”

“It is not about business, it is about getting the king his wife. We must ensure that is done.” Jon snaps.

“And how do you suppose we do that Lord Jon? Our ships are not enough to get us there, not with the blockade. Volantis has its own issues right now, but there are other places that have fleets that might be willing to get us there if we pay them the right price, and yet I do not think the cheesemonger wants to part with any more money.” Rivers responds.

“Then we go by land.” Jon says stubbornly. “We must aid the Queen, and ensure that nothing goes wrong there. Already we have been delayed by that stupid message, we cannot allow anything more to divert us.”

“Going by land is suicide. We would lose men to desertion before we even set off from here.” Strickland says. “We cannot go by land, and going by sea toward the east is pure madness. We are stuck here until something better comes along.”

“It so happens that my spies have reported Ironborn coming this way, it seems that Euron Greyjoy wants to bring the Queen for himself and claim the throne. He wants her dragons and her cunny.” Lysono Maar the spymaster says.

“Dealing with a Greyjoy? Out of the question.” Jon retorts. “I will not sully the king’s good name with dealings with that fool.”

“I do not think you give Greyjoy enough credit, my lord.” Mudd says. “He has got quite the reputation, as a skilled sailor, his fleet would be one of the best within all of Westeros and Essos, and if he give him the right price then he will serve us loyally. The king would be there and back in no time.”

“And what price would the king have to pay? Would it be his bride, or his pride? I would not want that. Nor would the cheese monger nor the spider. No Euron Greyjoy must be ignored.” Jon replies.

“Then what of Salladhor Saan? The man has a strong fleet and is due money from Baratheon, we can use that, and promise him loot and plunder, and then there is the Pirate king within the Stepstones, we must make our move soon.” Maar says.

“Enough.” Jon hears a voice call out. “Enough with this talk of going eastward.” Jon turns and sees the king standing there looking tired and frustrated. “We all know what will happen if I go eastward, I will look like a beggar, my aunt will not want to have anything to do with me. If she wants Slaver’s Bay she is welcome to it. I will take what is rightfully mine, and I shall do it with the army of men who know how to fight. I will win people to my cause the same way the Teagues did, through conquest and through showing my skill. I will not hide whilst someone else does the duty for me. It is time we moved westward, not eastward. I am done hiding.”

“A bold move my king,” Jon says cautiously, he had been noticing a change in Aegon over the past few moons, something he had not been able to place his finger on, but he knows there is something different about him. “But where would you land, and how would you maintain that hold?”

The king unfurls a map of Westeros and points at a place on the map. “The Stormlands are weak and vulnerable, it is there we shall set sail for, we shall hit the Baratheons where it hurts them. We shall show them that we are not done and dead. When I land and begin conquering, my uncle and Dorne will have to come to our side, otherwise they will risk looking the fool. We shall rally those who were known within the circles as loyalists and we shall break them down and win this war.”

“And who will fund this?” Strickland asks.

“Our coffers are full captain.” Rivers responds. “We can either sit here, or get fat, or we can do as His Grace suggests and move and fight. Personally I would rather fight than sit here waiting for a woman to make her mind up.”

Laswell Peake chirps up then. “I too would rather fight than sit here getting old. I will have time to that when I am old and grey. I want to fight, and if it means placing the true king on the throne, then so be it. Let us do this and fuck the Lannisters.”

“Let’s finish what the dragons started, let us restore the rightful king on to his throne and let us end Tywin Lannister and his get once and for all.” Mudd shouts.

There is a chorus of approval at that, and Jon stands and lowers himself to one knee before the boy he sees as a son and a king. “I will stand by your side and fight for you, till my last breath.”

Others make the same pledge, and Jon looks up at the boy, who is now a man, and for the first time, he sees Rhaegar in the boy’s face. He knows the gods are on their side then, in that moment. 


	21. At The End Of This War

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The throne room was alive with the sound of people murmuring, talking, surprised at the people kneeling before the throne, and Tommen could not help the smug smile that came across his face. Sansa was there as well, he knew, staring at the people before them, and he looked at her briefly, but then turned back to the people before him. It was something, achieving that which his brother had never done, it was proof, if any was needed that he was his father’s son, not the get of a mad woman. He looks at the main figure at the head of the party and calls out. “You may rise.”

As if on cue, Robb Stark, the former King of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North rises. “Thank you Your Grace. It is an honour to come here to serve you. After so long in the shadows it is nice to finally be within the light once more.”

There is some murmuring at that, and Tommen smirks, deftly done that. “So tell me my lord, you have come south from the Twins I believe, but I would know why you have come now and not before. How did you survive your uncle’s wedding, when so many others did not?”

Stark looks somewhat uncomfortable at that, and Tommen notes he is avoiding Sansa’s gaze. Eventually he speaks. “I made a deal with those who were planning the deed. I knew that something was going on when Lothar Frey and Walder Rivers came to meet me. I expected some heavy price for the sin I had committed, and yet there was none. Speaking with Walder Rivers, I learned of what was planned, the man did not approve of it, and he wanted that which only a king could give him. And so I made an arrangement with the man and his brother Black Walder, the wedding would go ahead, and when the time came, I would see my wife die, as well as others who were nothing more than a threat to my cause.”

Tommen looks at the man impressed. “Truly some good calculating work. But then tell me, some of your most trusted men and women died during that wedding. Was that intentional or an accident?” He of course means Lady Catelyn, and as such he sees Sansa fix her brother with a very keen gaze.

Stark looks solemn at that, and then he says. “Those who died without the true means, such as my mother were accidents. Some of the Freys got carried away within the slaughter, and as such I had them killed the moment I learned of their offenses. Just as Black Walder’s own family has suffered for his own insubordination.”

Tommen looks at the Lord of the Crossing and finally understands why the man has looked as beaten as of late. His impression of Stark goes up two fold now. He turns to look back at the man and asks. “So you have come out of the shadows now, tell me Stark what is it you wish?”

There is a moment’s silence and then Stark says. “I wish to be welcomed back into the King’s peace. I wish for myself, my family and my men and women to be pardoned. The ill born Joffrey Baratheon is dead, and you sit in his place, you are the rightful king and as such are the smartest one to bear that title. I would offer my services to you, as well as those of my men to make sure that the kingdoms remain at peace.”

A gasp echoes throughout the throne room at that, Tommen looks at Stark and then he shifts his gaze to his grandfather a moment before turning back to Stark and responding. “And in return for all of that, what do you wish to have from me?”

“As I have mentioned, I wish for myself, my family, as well as my men and women pardoned for any wrong doing. We were fighting to remove a bad king from the throne, not against you. Furthermore, I would wish to see my titles restored to me, and finally, I would be most pleased if you would give me leave to deal with the scourge in my lands.” Stark responds.

“By scourge I assume you mean Stannis Baratheon, Ramsay Snow as well as the Ironborn?” Tommen asks.

“Yes Your Grace.” Stark responds.

Tommen is quiet for a moment, making himself appear as if deep in thought, in reality has known for a long time what his answer would be, but it would not them any good to make this appear as if he were an eager boy. He is not a boy anymore, he is the king. He looks at the man standing before him below on the ground, and he replies. “Very well, I shall grant you, your titles and honours, I shall restore Winterfell upon you and give you the money needed to rebuild it, furthermore, I give you leave to destroy your enemies, as they are from this moment the enemies of the crown. And finally, I issue a pardon for all those who fought alongside you during your war against my brother.”

“Thank you Your Grace.” Stark replies.

Tommen stands then, and walks down the steps of the throne toward Stark, he clasps the man’s shoulders, and says. “We are brothers now, for I intend to wed your sister on the morrow. You will of course be here for a few days to ensure that things go smoothly.”

“Of course Your Grace, it would be my honour.” Stark responds.

“Good.” Tommen replies smiling. He looks at those gathered in the throne room and calls out. “Let this be a sign to all, that I am a merciful king. Stark and Baratheon are united once more. Our enemies shall tremble before us all once more.”

“Long Live the King.” Lord Stark says, a cry taken up by many others within the throne room. Tommen smiles and as he looks at his mother he thinks _Your lies will not be kept secret for much longer mother, what you did to Lord Stark will come out, and when it does, you are finished._

* * *

 

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

Stark alive and well, Stark breathing and walking under the same roof as him. By the gods, it was almost as if the gods were trying to have him killed. How had Walder Frey not seen to the boy? Or perhaps he had, perhaps the man had merely been slighted by Tywin in some manner or the other and had decided to remove him from the picture, or worry him or some such nonsense. It made no matter, Tywin had always prided himself on his adaptability and he would adapt to this, and so as he looked at the king, from across the table, he takes a sip of wine and then prepares to speak, but the king beats him to it.

“Tell me grandfather, how it feels to know what Walder Frey betrayed you?” the young king asks, a note of amusement in his voice.

Something about the king has changed in the past few weeks, he has become more and more like Robert, and less like Jaime, but then Tywin wonders if his son is even his son anymore. “It was an unexpected occurrence, but it is not truly a surprise. Walder Frey always was a treacherous man, this is no surprise. It is something that can and will be used for the throne’s gain though.”

His grandson looks at him a moment before responding. “That does of course mean that your plans for Jon Snow, are somewhat made redundant now. You cannot use the bastard against the trueborn heir, the north would never accept that.”

Tywin looks at his grandson and nods. “Indeed that is true, but from what I know, the bastard has already left the Watch, it seems that the commanders there saw fit to relieve him of his oaths. As of yet none know where he might have gone, only that he has.”

The king is silent for a time, before he finally says. “The marriage between myself and Sansa Stark, will go ahead. I will not allow the Tyrells to get in the way. We have more and more evidence against them for Joffrey’s death, if they are truly as smart as they make themselves out to be, they will remain silent, lest we reveal it all. What has that old crone had to say about this?”

Tywin smirks and then masks his amusement into a face of calmness. “She has said that though it is unfortunate, she sees the sense in it. After all, Sansa Stark is a way to control her now alive again brother, furthermore, having access to the north is important, there are many and more resources within its lands that need to be accessed. A friendship between yourself and the Stark boy would not be remiss in occurring my king.”

His grandson looks at him then, a calculating look in his eyes. “And does the woman know that we know exactly where that child is? The child they lied about? I could have them killed for that, lying to the king is treason. It is actually quite a tempting thing to do, but I think there is enough trouble within the Reach without causing more.”

Tywin is reminded of his wife then, the way she would speak about certain things and the way it had always fascinated him, gods, there is much and more he would give to have Joanna back, if they had not had to make that damned pact with a dead man, perhaps she might still be here. Still it does no good to dwell on the past, not now. “Indeed, that is very true Your Grace. Yet the flowers are more use alive than as spikes, despite the message that would send. The Lady Margaery in particular is a very useful tool to have.”

“And she has two brothers not committed to the Kingsguard. One of whom is married, and most likely shall have a child before long. It would take something special to see them both gone would it not grandfather?” his grandson asks.

“Accidents happen Your Grace. Willas Tyrell is one man and his brother Garlan is a warrior and commander. Give the order, and he would have to fight in the most dangerous part of the battle. The Greyjoys are wreaking havoc on the reach, sooner rather than later the Tyrells will begin chafing.” Tywin replies.

His grandson considers this for a moment before asking. “And what of the Martells? They are evermore a thorny issue, the Red Viper is there professing loyalty and yet we cannot forget he was the one shouting that they rise for Viserys Targaryen after the rebellion. He has been meeting with Tyrion you know, to discuss something or the other. But I know he has asked Tyrion to do something to you, as of now, nothing has been done. Soon enough you will need to give Tyrion what is his by right.”

Tywin stiffens then. “I will never give him the Rock, not so long as I live. He is a corrupt influence Your Grace, it does no good to attach yourself to him.”

The king’s eyes harden then, in a manner reminiscent of Robert Baratheon, but also Joanna, Tywin can feel his heart hammering in his chest. “He is our blood, and has been nothing but a loyal servant, despite the treatment my brother and mother have both given him. He will get the Rock, otherwise you can start looking toward Essos for a new title. As for my mother, I think it is time we find someone for her to marry. Dorne is not the right place, but looking toward the Riverlands might be interesting, or perhaps the Vale. She is still of child bearing age, and I believe the Royces are in need of a wife for their heir.”

Tywin laughs then. A thing he has not done for many years, not since Joanna told him the truth. “I do believe that might be a smart move, it would certainly make things much more interesting in the Vale. The one place that so far has not answered any of the summons or calls for response. Baelish no doubt has had a hand in that.”

His grandson looks at him then, and says words he has not heard since Joanna said them to him before the Reyne rebellion. “I want him found, and I want him brought back in chains, Baelish is a man who must, I repeat must be killed.”


	22. Discussions

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Sansa Stark**

She was a maiden flowered, and she had been married once, and was soon to be wed once more, and yet the thought of meeting her brother still terrified her. Her brother, who she had prayed for so long would come and rescue her from King’s Landing, her brother who had been a king and had died as one. Her brother who was very much alive and standing before her. Her brother, who she did not know if she hated for still being alive, or loved for being her brother. Gods it was confusing, and so she stood in silence as he stared at her as well.  Finally when she could take it no more she speaks. “You look well.” a pause and then. “But then I suppose being dead does that to you.”

Robb grins then, and Sansa feels like she is a little girl again. “Aye I suppose it does. And I suppose King’s Landing finally agreed with you. Either that, or not being married to a monster.”

Sansa looks at her brother, not sure whether to laugh or to slap him, instead she says. “You know, when you were fighting the war, I always wanted you to come to King’s Landing to save me. I thought it would be just like when we were children, and that you would be my knight.”

“Sansa I…” Robb begins but she cuts him off.

“Then I heard about what happened in the West, and I think I began realising that you wouldn’t come. That you couldn’t come. Being king had more power over you then the bonds of family. At the Blackwater I thought you might come for me, I thought you might have at least found Arya, but the next thing I heard was that you had married some girl and that mother had let the Kingslayer go.” Sansa says.

“It was not that simple Sansa.” Robb responds.

“In what sense? You could have come to the negotiating table could you not?” Sansa asks. “You held the cards, all the cards, you could have traded the lesser prisoners you had for myself, and for Arya when she was here. You could have done it even after father died. But you did not. Why?”

“My bannermen would have been at my throat had I done that.” her brother says.

“You were their king Robb, you could have done whatever you wanted and they could not have questioned you. You were winning the war!” Sansa says.

“It is not as simple as you make it out to be!” her brother retorts. “I had too much to do, I had a war to fight, I had to play politics, and I had to worry about our family. There was far too much going on within the army and the north. I wanted to get you both out of King’s Landing the moment I learned of father’s arrest, truly I did.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Sansa exclaims.

“Because, the only thing our father’s bannermen respected was strength. In order to make sure that I could get you both out and safe, I had to keep winning. And I made mistakes, so many mistakes, that cost us Winterfell, and nearly cost us Bran and Rickon!” her brother replies.

“What do you mean nearly? Bran and Rickon are dead!” Sansa shouts.

“No, they are not.” Robb replies softly. “Theon never killed them. They escaped before he could get anywhere near them.”

Sansa feels as if she has been slapped across the face. “How? How do you know this?”

Her brother looks away from her for a moment, to the point where she is not sure whether he is hiding something, or thinking of what to tell her. But though it seems to last a long time, it is actually fleeting. “My men in the north have told me this. Rickon was found in the Haunted Castle, near Oldcastle. Where the ghost of his namesake is said to rest. Lord Wyman sent word.”

“Why did you not say this before?” Sansa asks.

“Because, I do not want anyone knowing until I see him myself.” Robb says.

Sansa can see the sense in that, and yet she picks up on something her brother had not said. “What of Bran?”

“None of my sources have been able to find him yet, and yet Jon is fast heading toward where he might well be. I have hope that we can find him before anyone else does.” Robb replies.

“Why is Jon going to be there? I thought Jon was at the wall?” Sansa asks.

Robb grins then. “Oh I had Jon sent from the wall. He thinks his commanders dismissed him, but I had it so that he was sent away from there under a false pretence.”

“Why?” Sansa asks.

“Because, he is more use to me away from the wall than at the damned place. I need my family heading toward Winterfell, the north has bled for long enough, it is time we regrouped and brought her back to full life.” her brother says.

Sansa looks at her brother a moment and then asks. “Is that why you came out of the shadows? To get Tommen’s support for this? To go against whatever else there might be going on there?”

“Don’t sound so surprised sister, you are doing the same are you not? Winning the boy’s affections for your own gain?” her brother replies.

“What? No.” Sansa protests.

Her brother laughs and then stops. “You are being serious? You love him don’t you?”

Sansa is silent a moment, not sure what to say, but then she merely nods and says. “Yes, I do.”

“For how long?” her brother asks.

Sansa looks at her brother, wondering why he is asking her this, she is silent for a long moment and then finally she says. “He was the one who comforted me after they removed father’s head from his body. He has been my friend since I’ve been in King’s Landing. He was the one who comforted me when father died, and when I learned that you and mother were dead. He has been my only true friend.”

* * *

 

**Queenscrown**

**Jon Snow**

His leg hurt, by the gods did it hurt. He could feel the pain from where Ygritte’s arrow had pierced his skin. Ygritte, his love, she was dead now, gone, nothing but smoke and ash. Gods it hurt to think of her, it hurt to think of a lot of things. He was not a sworn brother, he was not a son of Winterfell, and he was nothing. He was everything he had feared when he was a child. He had no home, nothing but this gods damned place, which was not anything anymore. He did not know why he was here, but he was, and it was frustrating him. “Gods dammit.” Jon Snow yells. His voice echoes around the room, but there is no answer.

He hears a sound from somewhere close by and calls out. “Whoever it is, show yourself!” The sound gets louder and louder until it is nearly at his feet, he shoots up and looks to see a figure there, the small mossed haired figure. “Where have you been?” Jon asks.

The figure ignores his question and says. “You must leave here Jon Snow. Evil forces are coming. They come marching toward you with great haste, seeking blood.”

“What? Why?” Jon questions.

The figure does not reply immediately, but instead says. “Rise Jon Snow, rise and find your destiny.”

The figure keeps pestering Jon, until he finally concedes and it is with a great furore that he stands, limping up to grab what little he has, and he walks down the steps, toward where the little boat sits. The boat that replaced his horse, gods know how long that thing has been there, but he moves to it, gives it a push and then jumps in, landing somewhat unsteadily, wincing at the pain exerted on his leg. He looks around and the figure is there in the boat with him. “You must go to the mountains Jon Snow, it is there you will find answers.”

“What in the name of the hells, will I find in the mountains? The clans are likely getting ready for the already present winter. There is nothing I can find there. I am going back to Winterfell, and to find out what happened to my brothers.” Jon says.

“You will find those answers at the mountains. Do not doubt that, Jon Snow. You must have faith. Faith your father never had.” the figure says.

“What do you know of my father?” Jon questions.

“More than you do, Jon Snow. I know much and more, Eddard Stark was a man of many secrets and things kept hidden. He did things that you would find and name a dishonour. And yet you are more his son than his heir is.” the figure replies.

“Robb is dead, as are my brothers. Sansa is my father’s heir, so that would make sense.” Jon retorts.

The figure merely smiles. “That is what you think. Come south to the mountains and learn the truth.”

“What truth?” Jon exclaims, his impatience growing. The figure remains silent, and for the rest of the journey, despite Jon’s best efforts, the figure does not say another word. Eventually Jon relents, and they sit in silence until the boat hits a piece of land. Jon jumps out, Ghost following him gladly, and as Jon goes to help the figure dismount, he finds that the figure is gone. He curses, but goes on regardless, he walks and walks, and as he walks he muses on the figure’s words. He wonders if there is any truth to what the thing was saying. He does not know, nor does he know whether he wants to care or not. All he knows is that something about all of this seems wrong, something that is nagging away at him, it seems something is going to happen, but Jon does not know what, and it is beginning to anger him. He hates not knowing, he hates being unable to determine anything anymore, it’s almost as if since joining the watch his whole fate has been decided beforehand.

It takes him some time, but eventually he realises where he is, the New Gift, the western most corner of it. Lands that were once inhabited by a great uncle and his sons, they were given by Jon’s great grandfather Lord Edwyle when the watch was broken, and needed aid. He does not know what happened to his great uncle’s descendants whether they are alive or dead, but he knows that something must be done for this land. There is a darkness coming, and the north is not prepared to deal with it. It is worrying for him, truly worrying for him that this is the state of his home. He wonders how they could have been caught so unawares. He wonders, and wonders, but then decides, there is little he can do now, he must continue.

Jon feels as if he is running low, as if he is running blindly through the fog of the north. His home has become a fog within his mind, he snorts, and he does not know whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. Something must be done about this, he does not know where Stannis is, nor where the other factions are, all he knows is that he is stumbling blindly through the alleys of the north and there is no one there to help him should he fall. It is this that makes him call out. “Is there anybody out there? Just yell if you can hear me.”

Nothing happens for a time, and then an arrow goes whizzing past him, stopping somewhere in a tree. “Who goes there?” a sharp voice calls out.

“I am Jon Snow, a former member of the Night’s Watch. Who are you?” Jon asks.

Silence and then the voice calls out once more. “You are The Ned’s boy?”

“Aye, come out and show yourself and see for yourself that I speak the truth.” Jon shouts.

Silence, and then Jon sees multiple figures emerge out of the fog, and he nearly collapses when he sees the third figure. “Bran? What are you doing there?”

“I have come to find you brother.” his dead brother calls out.


	23. Weddings And Wars

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The day had finally come, the day he had been waiting for since he had met Sansa, things between them had not been easy to begin with, but they had overcome those challenges and were now married. Tommen felt happy, as happy as he had ever felt with anything in his life. Sansa looked absolutely stunning in her dress, and when her brother had led her down toward him in the Great Sept, Tommen had felt his heart begin to quicken. She was truly, truly quite beautiful, and he felt like the luckiest man alive. They had said their vows, and when they had kissed, gods Tommen had felt something shoot through him, and he knew from the way Sansa had gasped that she had felt the same way.

From the sept they had moved onto the throne room where they were now feasting. The feast was not as grand as the one arranged for Joffrey’s wedding, but Tommen did not care, all he cared about was that the woman by his side, who was now his wife was happy. He turns to her and whispers. “You are well my love?”

His wife, gods that word feels so good nods. “I am my love, are you?”

Tommen smiles. “I am now that I am with you.” he takes her hand and kisses their linked fingers, his smile widens when she blushes.

“As am I. Now there is no need for us to hide our love for one another, my love, my king. Tell me husband, what do you plan on doing for me?” his wife asks.

“Whatever you wish my love, you are my queen, whatever you want, you need only name it and I shall give it to you.” Tommen says.

His wife hesitates a moment and then replies. “I want to see Winterfell. Once all is settled and well, I would like to go north, to see it one more time. I want to see my childhood home, and dance within its hall, and sing again.”

Tommen looks at Sansa then, truly looks at her, and in her face he can see no hint of a lie or ulterior motive, and though he knows he should not think so of his wife, he cannot help but think that her brother kept himself hidden all this time, what other secrets is he hiding. Still he pushes such thoughts away and merely says. “Of course my love, when all is settled and safe there, we will all go north.”

His wife smiles at him then and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you my love.”

She turns back to face the crowd, but their hands remained linked. Tommen watches proceedings with somewhat of a tired eye, the Tyrells are unhappy about this marriage he knows, but if he is being honest with himself, he does not care. He has far too much on them for them to be able to act negatively toward him, and it is with that in mind that he turns to Lord Mace and says. “Thank you my lord, for being so patient. I know you desire to return home to deal with the Ironborn and once the festivities are done here, I shall grant you and your men leave to return to your home to drive off the Ironborn. I will send Randyll Tarly off to Storm’s End to take the castle, as well as negotiate a settlement.”

Tyrell looks surprised a moment and then says. “Thank you, Your Grace. If you do require any further assistance during the war, please do not hesitate to ask. We are as always the crown’s most faithful servants.”

Tommen nods and then says. “There is one thing I do require of you, your daughter Lady Margaery shall remain here in King’s Landing to serve as a lady in waiting to my wife the Queen. I think it only fitting that we allow their friendship to continue, would you not say?”

Tommen feels Sansa squeeze his hand, and he smirks slightly, Tyrell looks as if he wishes to protest, but instead he merely says. “Of course Your Grace, a great honour, and one I know my daughter shall be most happy with.”

Tommen nods, and then turns his attention to his goodbrother. “Tell me Lord Stark, have you thought on who you shall wed once all of this is done and settled? After all the north is a big place, and you are in need of heirs.”

His goodbrother smiles, and his smile reminds Tommen of a wolf. “Yes Your Grace, I have been considering my options, and I do think in light of recent circumstances a marriage into the north would be for the best. There are many eligible girls within the north that might peak my interest, and as such it seems the time is right for such a marriage.”

“Very good my lord, tell me then, what news has there been from the north? If I am to send assistance to you, I would know just what it is I am sending men into.” Tommen replies.

Stark looks pained for a moment and then he replies. “From what my sources tell me, Deepwood Motte is secure once more, and is now flying Stark Banners, as for Moat Cailin, that too has been retaken and has been flying Stark banners as well. Stannis Baratheon and Ramsay Snow continue to fight amongst themselves, waging intermittent warfare and destroying their forces.”

Tommen considers this a moment and then asks. “Then it might well seem that you shall be arriving as a winning lord no? Without the need for many reinforcements?”

Stark smiles a moment, and Tommen is once again reminded of a wolf. “Oh I would not say so, there is much and more going on within the north, and as such any assistance the crown could provide would be most useful to me Your Grace.”

Tommen looks at Stark, and he suspects that there is something more going on here. He grins a moment and then replies. “Very well.”

* * *

 

**Last Hills**

**King Stannis I Baratheon**

His chest hurt, by the gods did it hurt, but not as much as his pride did. Beaten, beaten by the bastard of Bolton who had no more than five hundred men that boy was causing him more and more trouble with each and every passing day, that the bastard was out there, doing gods alone knew what. Stannis did not know how he was going to beat the boy and his men, Snow was disappearing into the darkness every time Stannis tried to come near him, and the northmen were disappearing, he did not know why, but they were going, but not flocking toward Snow that was for sure. He just did not know where they were going, and it was driving him mad.

“What word has there been from your scouts Karstark?” Stannis growls.

Arnolf Karstark had at one point been a useful tool, but his usefulness has since run out and Stannis still wonders why he uses him. “From what we can tell Your Grace, the bastard of Bolton is using somewhere close to the Dreadfort as a hideout, his men are camped around there, but they disperse whenever my scouts come close by.”

“Have they been flying my banners?” Stannis asks.

“No Your Grace. They have done as you instructed and have been riding without banners. And yet something has always alerted Snow’s men to their coming. I do not know what it might be, considering Snow and his men believe you to be dead.” Karstark replies.

“And how likely are they to truly believe that damned rumour then? It is claimed that there is Stark wandering these lands once more. Rickon Stark if I remember correctly. How did you not see that, considering I asked you to?” Stannis demands.

Karstark looks somewhat shamed. “I did all I could. And yet it seems Manderly was more devious than I thought. He knew more about their escape then he let on. And now he refuses to allow the boy out of his sight.”

“Manderly is a traitor who must be shown the error of his ways. Allow me to send word to my brethren and we can have him sorted out my king.” Melisandre says, the beam at her throat gleaming.

Stannis looks at her and then responds. “Very well, do it, but make sure you have them arrive within the city. I want Manderly killed and his daughters and the boy brought before me.” He pauses a moment and then looks at Karstark. “And I want you to go and find out more about this boy. I want to know where he was hiding.”

Karstark is silent a moment and then he replies. “The Haunted Castle Your Grace. It is an old settlement where Rickon Stark, the heir of Cregan Stark once used as a base during his invasions of Skaagos. It is a place known for some sort of treachery or the other. It was there he hid, and it was there he was found.”

“And why pray tell did it take Manderly to find him. Is this castle not on your lands?” Stannis asks pointing at the map.

Karstark shakes his head. “No Your Grace, that is another abandoned castle, built for Artos Stark and his family in the days of old. That is where an old man who once was a great warrior lives.”

Stannis looks at the man and then snorts before turning his attention back to the present. “Snow is camped near the Dreadfort you say? Why does he not simply enter that castle?”

“Because he is trying to lure more men toward him and his cause. And he is trying tempt Your Grace to attack him. He wants you to fall for his trap.” Karstark says.

“The fool, I am not Robert, I will not go marching into territory I know nothing of. No it is better if he comes to us. The bastard has shown himself to be impatient and as such I mean to make use of that.” Stannis says.

“If I might ask, how do you intend to do that Your Grace?” Karstark’s grandson asks.

Stannis looks at the boy and replies. “Through sending some men to the Last River. Snow will need to prove himself to these men of his, otherwise they will desert him. I will force him to cross the river, and then when the time comes, I shall hit him and hit him hard.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Karstark speaks. “A sound plan Your Grace. And one that is sure to lure the bastard into a false sense of pride and confidence. He is a man who relies on action, the waiting he is currently undergoing will not sit well with him. Exploiting that is in your best interests.”

Stannis merely nods and then turns his attention to another one of Karstark’s sons, gods he is surrounded by them. “What word of the rest of the north? Are Ryswell and Dustin still being obstinate?”

“Yes Your Grace. They continue to state they are fighting for the Starks and none else. Any resistance to Stark rule is being crushed on the western coast. Any Ironborn presence is being dealt with severely.” Karstark’s son replies.

Stannis grits his teeth and then says. “More fool them, when I am done with Bolton I shall see to them, and when I do, they shall know no mercy. It is time we ended this farce. We shall march out soon enough. Has there been word from the south?”

Ser Justin Massey speaks then. “Limited word Your Grace. The Redwyne fleet is currently docked in King’s Landing. And as such does not seem to be preparing to move out anytime soon. Furthermore, it appears all is secure within the Riverlands, it seems the Lannisters have held firm.”

Stannis considers this and then looks at Melisandre briefly, he knows what she would have him do. Though he finds it abhorrent, he knows that sometimes one must put ones duty above one’s own wants. He knows soon enough he shall have a son, Melisandre has told him as such, and so he looks at his knight and tells him. “Send word for my daughter and wife to join us. It is time they came down from the wall.”


	24. Many Faced Serpent

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. The Mountains**

**Jon Snow**

If he were being honest with himself, Jon thought he was still in a dream, there was something very surreal about this whole experience. He had thought his brother was dead, but there he was, being carried on Hodor’s back, Summer running by his side, that, that was proof, and yet there was something within Jon that said there was more to this than met the eye. The Reeds were suspicious, he had never met them before, and now they were here? No, that did not make sense. He looks at Bran and then at Summer and says. “So it was you who saved me. I wondered at that.”

Bran looks at him a moment and then replies softly. “I could not let that girl hurt you. I did not know why you were there, but I had to protect you.”

Jon looks at his brother a moment and then asks. “Why did you not come forward then? Why remain dead?”

Before his brother can respond the boy, Jojen speaks. “It was necessary for the world to think Bran was dead. It prevented others from looking for him.”

Jon looks at the boy a moment and then says. “Hiding him from the Boltons and the Ironborn I can understand, but from me? I am Bran’s brother. I would never seek to harm him.”

“You would’ve asked him to do something he was not ready to do yet. We could not allow that.” Jojen replies.

Jon feels his anger growing then. “I am your brother Bran, not the gaoler that these two appear to be. Tell me true, why did you not come forward?”

His little brother looks scared then, and Jon feels his anger grow toward the Reeds. His brother is silent and then replies. “I wanted to, but we needed to keep going. We had to go northward. We could not allow anyone to see us.”

Jon groans in frustration then. “Why? Why did you feel the need to go north? What was there north for you apart from death and grief? The mountain clans would have fought for you and Rickon. Is Rickon alive?”

Silence, a silence that stretches on for a long time, Jon feels his anger grow ever more persistent then. “Bran. Answer my question. Is Rickon alive?” Bran looks at the Reed boy almost as if he is seeking the boy’s permission to speak. “Do not look at Jojen Reed for permission, you are a Stark. Act like one.”

His brother looks ashamed then. “Yes, he is. By now the Manderlys would have found him.”

“The Manderlys? How would they have known to find him?” Jon asks.

“Because I told him and Osha to go to the Haunted Castle. The Manderlys would know to go there.” Bran replies.

Jon wants to ask who Osha is, but thinks better of it, instead he asks. “And what of the wolf, what of Summer? I heard you speaking last night, are you a warg Bran?”

His brother is deathly silent then, and Jon feels his nerves begin to grow. “He is the most powerful warg south of the wall. He should have gone north of the wall to the three eyed raven, but he decided to come back south.” the Reed Boy replies.

“You went north of the wall?!” Jon exclaims. “What madness possessed you to do that?”

“I was told I needed to go north of the wall if I wanted to fly. And so I went north. I did not know what else to do once Winterfell was taken.” Bran replies.

Jon feels his anger reach a boiling point then, and he grabs the Reed boy by the scruff of the neck and growls. “You were the one who put that nonsense in my brother’s head. You Reeds always get into no good. I know about your father Jojen Reed, and I know of the things he did during Harrenhal. Do not try and deny it, you will answer me, why did you send my brother to the death trap north of the wall?”

The boy chokes out something and then he chokes out something else. “I merely did what I needed to. Your brother needed to go north, he was never destined to be a king, your brother Robb never died.”

Jon tightens his hold over the Reed boy and growls. “Do not play with me Reed. My brother Robb died at the twins. I will not hear you mention his name. Not you. Now, you will answer me truly, what idiocy prompted you to go north of the wall?”

“The words of a sorcerer, who all heeded, and yet none listened to. We had to go north to see the last true commander of the watch, for the darkness was coming. It has come.” Jojen Reed sputters.

Jon stares at the boy a moment and then releases him, staring at him as he sputters and gasps for air. He looks at the boy and then growls. “What rubbish are you speaking?” he draws his dagger, and Ghost begins growling.

“Jon, he’s speaking the truth.” Bran says. “We had to go north to see a former Lord Commander. You’ve heard the tales about the mysterious Lord Commander, surely you know that what we had to do was necessary. I am a Stark, and I would not shirk my duty.”

Old tales begin to form within Jon’s head, the tales he heard about the Targaryens and the Wall from Maester Aemon, all of it echoes within his head, and now he wonders at it. “You cannot be serious? I thought such magic was dead.”

“Not dead, just sleeping, waiting for your brother, Jon.” Jojen replies.

Jon looks at the boy a moment, his hand on the hilt of his knife, and then he says. “If what you say is true, then perhaps there is sense in coming with you to see our great grandmother. If there is not, well I will kill you here and now.”

There is a gasp, and then a voice sounds out, strong and proud. “You have already found me, son of my daughter’s flesh. Blood of my blood, and saviour to the world.”

* * *

 

**Meereen**

**Prince Quentyn Martell**

Meereen was alive with the sound of chaos, the Queen had brought the city to the flames, and as such there was much chaos going on within its walls. Quentyn watched it all with some disinterest, it was a mere sideshow to what he had planned. He knew his friends thought him mad, but his cousin knew he was speaking sense, and so he did what needed to be done, he pushed on through the darkness, and he stared at the emptiness and then called out. “I know you are there, come out dragons. Come out and meet your masters.”

There is no response but the deafening call of silence, Quentyn does not lose heart though, instead he merely turns to his friends and says. “They shall come, we have all that we need.”

Cletus Yronwood, standing there holding the dagger merely says. “Do you think so Quent? I do not know, you saw the chaos in the city, we shall be lucky if we do not get killed. The Harpies will come here soon enough.”

“They will come, they know that there is something in it for them, they always know when there is something in it for them.” Quentyn replies.

“How can you be so sure Quent? I know you’ve read the books and seen the last dragon, but surely there must be more to it than what you are proposing? Surely there is something that must needs be offered?” Cletus says.

“Because, I have studied this for more than I remember studying for anything else. This does have to work, I know it will. Now bring the dagger here.” Quentyn replies.

His friend sighs and hands him the dagger, Quentyn takes it and then says. “Gerris you have the vial?”

His friend nods and moves up to place the vial underneath his hands. Quentyn grits his teeth and then pricks the bottom of his hand with the dagger, watching as the blood drops into the vial. “Now we must bring the flames, cousin, you have the flames?”

“I do.” his cousin replies, his voice sounding soft and melodic. “You are sure of this cousin?”

Quentyn looks at his cousin and merely nods. “The woman has shown she is incapable of doing anything sensible. Father did say that this would be the only other option should she show that. We must get this done. I will not see her sit the throne.”

“Very well, let us not delay any further. Let us watch as the magic happens.” His cousin lights the flame to the vial, and as they watch it burn and crackle, and then pop, Quentyn feels a tingling sensation within his hand, he watches all of this going on, and as the smoke comes tingling through, he smells something akin to dead meat crawling through.  Two eyes appear, a tongue slithering through, he sees scales and sees the beast before him, a feeling of awe engulfs him, there before him is his prize, the thing he knew he was here to claim, the knowledge, all of that knowledge, it would be his soon enough.

The dragon’s tongue comes out once more and flicks against his tongue, Quentyn feels something akin to shock run through him at the sensation. Memories engulf him then. _An egg lying in state in King’s Landing, as a dragon the colour of night moves away, the dragon howling through the night, the sadness as her people lie and die, as her lovers and her masters die for the throne of barbed irons. The uncertainty of what would come from this, her mother’s passing. The years spent inside the egg as countless people tried to hatch her, none of them worthy of her attention or affection, until one came, one who was pure of heart, but tempered with fire. Being taken from that person was heart breaking, heart wrenching, being given to the girl was something she would have roared over, she does not love the girl who took her from her egg, she does not see the fire inside her, she does not know why she came from her egg, but she wants to return to sleep._

Quentyn comes to with a gasp, lying on the floor, the dragon away from him. “What did you see cousin?” his cousin asks.

Quentyn takes a deep breath. “I saw, I saw her, I saw her memories. I know what she wants and what she does not want.”

“And what is that?” his cousin asks.

Quentyn hesitates a moment and then says. “She wants to return to her slumber. She does not like being awake, she thinks it is wrong. She found another rider, and does not know why she is stuck with the queen.”

“And who is this rider?” his cousin asks, something akin to hunger deep within his voice.

Quentyn turns then to look at his cousin, his silver hair gleaming in the light, his violet eyes gleaming with hunger. “I think, I think it was your father.”

His cousin looks shocked and then asks. “You are certain?”

“I am. It was your father, it had to be, I do not know who else it could have been. Everything within the image suggested that it was your father.” Quentyn replies.

His cousin stares at him a moment and then asks. “And what of the queen? What do we do with her?”

Quentyn takes a deep breath and then says. “We must bring her here. Her blood is necessary, we have the eggs, but we need something more, we must make the dragons ours, completely ours, and for that we need her. We must ensure she does not leave. If she does, then we are in deep trouble.”

His cousin nods and then asks. “Do you know the spell to bring the state of mind about?”

“I think I can do it. I did have a deep look at it on the journey here. But I do not know whether or not it will be completely successful, so much else is dependent on it.” Quentyn says.

His cousin nods. “Well we must bring the queen here.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Gerris speaks. “I think she is already here.”

* * *

 

**Griffin’s Roost**

**Lord Jon Connington**

It had been relatively easy to take Griffin’s Roost, surprisingly so, that was something that concerned him, that his cousin would have allowed the castle to become so lax in its defence. Then again what could one expect from Red Ronnet, from what Jon could tell, the boy was a fool, a hot headed fool and not someone worth worrying overly about, and yet because he was kin, Jon found himself doing just that. It was aggravating really, just how much one could worry about relations that one had never met before.

Still the opening of the door and the presence of the king and Maester Haldon soothed him somewhat. “What word is there?” he asks.

“”It seems that the men have been successful in taking Estermont, Crow’s Nest Rain House. It seems the forces of the Stormlands have been stuck without a commander for some time. There is not much loyalty or love for Stannis Baratheon here.” Haldon replies.

Jon looks at the half maester and then at the king who says. “I knew that this would go well. I told you Jon, I told you we would be successful. There was already too much going on in the crownlands and elsewhere for that boy to look toward the place he should have been concerned with.”

Jon looks at the king and says. “Indeed it would appear so Your Grace. And yet I would urge caution, we cannot become too complacent. Tywin Lannister is still alive, and will likely be so for a while yet. We must continue making progress and we must win over the Stormlords, otherwise we are facing a difficult task ahead.”

“Stannis Baratheon has spent the past two moons in the north, he is not leaving that place alive, we have the assurances of our allies there. We must move and quickly, already the men are growing restless, we must make a move toward the one place that would bring us the most amount of men and show our enemies our strength.” the king says.

“You cannot mean what I think you mean. It has never fallen, not even during the Siege of Storm’s End did it fall. We must be certain we know what is going on before we do something such as this. It is too risky Your Grace.” Jon replies.

Something appears in the king’s eyes then. “We must act and we must act now. We cannot wait forever Jon, otherwise we will lose whatever initiative we might have gained from striking out as we did. I will not allow that, I cannot allow that to happen.”

Jon looks at the king and says. “We will not lose the initiative Your Grace, but Storm’s End is nearly impenetrable, we cannot take it without losing what few men we have. We must gain more men, and the way to do that is to take more castles. Force the lords of those castles to come to our side and show them the benefit that might come from siding with you.”

“Lord Connington is right Your Grace.” Haldon says. “It would not do to just have one part of the Stormlands fighting for you. Storm’s End is a formidable fortress, but even those holding it must know that for a long period of time they will be unable to sustain themselves. For now we must gain more allies.”

The king scratches his head then, and then says. “We must make a move somewhere, but we must make sure that Storm’s End is not allowed time to prepare. I cannot allow for something to happen that will end all the work we have done and prepared for. I cannot allow that.”

“Then what do you wish for us to do?” Jon asks.

The king is silent a moment, and then he says. “We must march for Storm’s End, I will not have it said that I was scared to go for the big game. We take our full force there, and we shall take it with or without blood being shed. I shall make the boy on the throne shit himself.” The king walks out of the room then, and Jon sighs.

He waits until the king is out of sight before turning to Haldon. “Did he read the letter?”

The maester shakes his head. “No my lord, he did not. I made sure that it was kept from his sight. For now, he remains ignorant, but sooner or later he shall come to know of it. How do you think he will feel when he finds out? You must speak with him.”

“I know that, I have been thinking about that ever since we landed. I do not know how to make it any easier for him. But we must do something, we cannot lose the one card we have. No matter what the spider might say, that secret is to our advantage.” Jon replies.

“Most certainly my lord, the more that the boy comes to rely on you, the more he will trust you, but the more it will hurt when he learns the truth. You must tell him soon, otherwise, someone else will, and the damage shall be done.”  Haldon says.

“I know gods dammit Haldon, I know. But what am I supposed to say, that we cannot move on King’s Landing yet, because the plan has not gone ahead. When he asks what plan, what does the spider want me to say? I am sorry but I cannot tell you yet, because it is a secret. For the love of the gods Haldon, I cannot continue lying to him.” Jon growls.

There is a moment’s silence and then the door opens and there standing before them is the king. He looks shocked, ragged and dazed, a letter clutched in his hand. “What is this?” he asks gesturing to the letter. “Tell me it is a lie, a falsehood, it cannot be true.”

Jon sighs. “It is, every word of it. I cannot lie any longer Aegon, it is true. I am sorry, so very sorry.”

Aegon draws his sword then, and rushes toward Jon, and as he feels the blade bury itself within his skin he says nothing. He feels something within him break though when he hears the boy say. “I trusted you.” _I am sorry Rhaegar, I failed you. I have failed you all._

* * *

 

**Meereen**

**Queen Daenaerys I Targaryen**

The streets were in chaos, there was blood being spilt everywhere, and Dany felt alive, but she felt sad. Sad that it had to come to this, the shedding of blood, she had warned them, and yet they had not listened, she could not be faulted, for she had tried, and tried to tell these fools that should they go against her, she would have justice. And now they were suffering for it, and yet, something inside her balked at all that was happening on her orders. And now, now, there were Dornishmen within her children’s room.

“What is going on here?” Dany asks, fighting to keep her voice calm. There are four men standing there before Rhaegel, and she feels something coming deep within her.

“We are doing what you did not have the guts to do.” the small one replies, she does not know what his name is.

She looks at Ser Barristan and he whispers. “Prince Quentyn Your Grace.”

“And what exactly is that then Prince Quentyn?” Dany asks.

The prince looks at her, his eyes a strange colour, not quite violet, but not quite purple. “Dragons are not supposed to be chained up like this. They are supposed to be free, and allowed to do as they please. You call them your children, and yet you do not control them. Are you truly the mother of dragons, or is that a lie?”

“Watch yourself Ser,” Ser Barristan says stepping forward. “You are speaking to the queen, and it is time you showed her some respect.”

Dany places her hand on the knight’s arm. “Rest easy, Ser Barristan, let us see what the man has to say. Tell me Prince Quentyn what would you do in my position then?”

“I would have let them go free. They are dragons not pets, you made the mistake of caring for those who would not keep you in power. You were foolish.” the prince replies.

Dany feels her anger begin to grow and she knows her children feel it as well, for she can feel their fire building. “Tell me then, what would you have done when a mother came with the corpse of her dead babe and asked me for justice? I could not kill my own child, so I did what was necessary.”

“No you punished the two who were not responsible for the crime, and let the other one go.” the prince replies. “You did not show the sound judgement of a mother, but instead the mere insolence of a girl pretending to be an adult.” the prince replies, his eyes are beginning to worry her now.

“Watch yourself, the Queen asked you what you would have done, not to insult her.” Ser Barristan replies.

“I think it would be good if the Queen spoke for herself, you are not in the habit of speaking for others.” a new figure says, this one tall, and startlingly handsome.

“And who pray tell are you?” Dany asks.

The figure smirks. “That is neither here nor there, now please do reply to my cousin, I think he is feeling quite unwell.”

Dany feels something inside her warning against doing this, but she steps closer, Ser Barristan follows. “So you would have had me imprison the biggest dragon the world has ever seen since the Black Dread died, the one called the black dread come again? And tell me why should I have done that? And tell me, why should I not simply have you removed from here, and forever?”

Quentyn looks at her. “Because then you would not have Dornish support, and without Dorne, you are nothing. You can have three dragons and Unsullied, but you would never raise another banner without Dorne. We have been setting the ground for your return for many years now, and yet you ignore us for that fool you call a lover.” The prince’s eyes are glowing now, and Dany feels something akin to fear prickle through her.

“You provided me with merely a scrap of paper, and something that you claimed was a letter from your father. I know not whether that was true. I only know that your uncle sits in King’s Landing whispering to the usurper’s child, who sits on my throne. How can I trust you?” Dany questions.

The prince bristles at this, whilst the figure standing by his side remains there stock still, a smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Dany finds herself wondering more and more about this person, and she wonders what he might be like, underneath all that finery. “I would say that the fact I am here. I did not need to come, and yet I came, and I offered the hand of friendship, and you slapped it away from me. I would deal with you, the way I should have from the start.”

Something in his tone of voice sets alarms ringing in her head and yet before she can say anything, Ser Barristan is knocked down from behind, and a rattle sounds, there before her is her fierce daughter Rhaegel, roaring at her with his flames fanning out before her. She hears the chanting of someone, and she screams for help, but none comes. She feels someone’s breathe hot at her neck. She hears a whispered confession. “You and I, we were meant to be, and yet, you were taken from me. I would have that fixed, the way my father meant it to be.” she is turned round then as she feels the man’s lips press against hers, she groans and then flames engulf her.

She feels a hot sensation, burning, the flames lick around her, engulfing her toward near desperation, something is pricking at her, blood is falling on the floor and yet she does not know from where it comes. She is panicking, but the feel of the man’s lips on hers is soothing and so she sinks back into his embrace, the flames grow hotter still, and then a roar is let loose, and she blinks and the flames are gone, and all that is left is ash.


	25. Hey, Serpent In The Grass

**2 nd Month of 300 A.C. Meereen**

**Queen Daenaerys I Targaryen**

The ash is poisonous, Dany is not sure what has just happened, but she knows now that something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. She can hear the chaos and commotion of the fighting outside the pyramid, and she knows that she has ordered all of this, but she does not know whether or not she supports it. She is not sure of anything anymore, all she knows is that Quentyn Martell has gone, disappeared, and something is left before her, ash, ash that smells so familiar, and yet she does not know how.

“Ser Barristan?” she calls out uncertainly.

Her white knight emerges, his armour dented and covered in blood. “Your Grace?”

Dany looks at him a feeling of horror growing through her. “What happened Ser? Why are you covered in blood?”

The knight looks down and then slumps to the floor. “There was a fight, between myself and Prince Quentyn and his men. They won, though I killed two of them. I think they are trying to flee.”

Dany shakes her head. “That does not matter, not now. Let them escape, the city will likely kill them. Tell me Ser, what happened just now? There was some sort of feeling and a shake and then darkness, and now ash.”

The knight looks weak, and Dany feels terrible for asking this. He still replies though. “I do not know truly what happened, for a fog came over me, but I heard a scream, a terrible scream almost as if life was being ripped from someone, or something, but I do not know truly, whether or not this happened or was simply in my head. Forgive me Your Grace.”

Dany looks at the knight and takes his hand and squeezes. “There is nothing to forgive, you did your duty to me Ser. You do not have to go though, you can fight, I know you can.”

The knight looks at her, his face breaking into a rare smile. “I am afraid that I do not have the strength anymore Your Grace. I cannot keep fighting this anymore, I am dying, and I think, I think it is time that I sleep. I cannot continue, and for that I would ask your forgiveness.”

Before Dany can speak the door flies open and in walk several figures, dressed as brutes, figures she does not know, but they have a golden kraken on their armour. “Get up old man. You are not dead yet, not until I say you are.”

Dany looks at the figure who spoke and enquires. “Who are you? Who would dare come before me here, now, and demand something.”

The big brute looks at her and says. “I am Victarion Greyjoy, brother to King Euron Greyjoy, I have come here to take you back to Westeros Your Grace.”

Dany feels a brief flicker of hope, but then Ser Barristan stands up, his legs shaking somewhat. “And why have you come here now Greyjoy? Your brother would not send you here, not without some malicious purpose. Tell me, what is it that I have to kill you for now?”

Greyjoy laughs. “You think you can defeat me old man? No, you are old and dying, I am in the peak of my powers, and you shall suffer embarrassment. You do not need to suffer such a fate, put your weapon down and we shall see to you ourselves.”

Dany looks at the old knight and pleads with him. “Please Ser, you do not have to do this. You can come with me, we can find a way out of this alive, together. Please.”

Ser Barristan turns to look at her, a sad smile on his face. His voice is soft when he replies. “Forgive me Your Grace, but I do not think that is possible. I cannot allow the Ironborn to come and take you, they are treacherous animals, not people, but animals. And as such I will not allow them to corrupt you.” the knight pauses a moment, sways, and then pulls his sword out of his scabbard. He turns to face the Ironborn, and says to her. “Leave now Your Grace, run, and find Drogon, and leave. Do not look back.”

“Ser Barristan, please do not do this, I beg of you.” Dany pleads, her voice shaking.

The knight merely replies. “Leave Your Grace, go to Drogon and leave this place.” He moves towards the Ironborn, and Dany finds herself rooted to the spot, unable to leave from this place, where her knight is about to give the fight. She watches as he kills one of the Ironborn who come charging toward him with little more than a swing of his sword. She watches as he duels two Ironborn at once, killing one and wounding another, but being brought down to his knees, before rising once more. She watches all of this, and she feels her heart begin to beat rapidly, uncertain of what she wants, does she stay here and risk being captured, or does she run and find Drogon.

Ser Barristan gives her hope though, he continues swinging his sword bringing foes down to their deaths, but more and more of the Ironborn seem to be coming, they seem to be appearing rapidly, determined to not let him rest. He is bleeding more profusely now, and Dany worries about that, she wonders where the other guards are, where Daario is, where everyone else is. She sees them coming though, soon enough, but it is too late Ser Barristan is dying, and now she screams as the knight falls to his knees, and the big brute takes his head off, the brute moves towards her, but Daario gets in his way swinging his sword, and fighting. She screams once more when Daario falls to his knees, broken and beaten, unable to fight properly, or do anything, the figure moves toward her a grin on his face, another figure comes to fight him, and they meet the same fate. Dany feels such intense anger flowing through her at that moment, that when a roar sounds and flames engulf her, a horn sounds and she screams, her anger and loss echoing throughout the chamber.

* * *

 

**The Mountains**

**Jon Snow**

“Who are you?” Jon asks, looking at the figure before him, she is small, and her hair is dark brown, there is a stubborn look on her face, that he knows well, though where from he is not sure.  A silence falls on them then, and he feels his anger and impatience grow through him, he wants an answer, and he wants it now.

Eventually the figure speaks. “You do not remember me, and I am not surprised. You were but a babe when I last saw you. It has been a long, long time since last we met Jon Snow, but you and I are kin.”

“How? I have no memory of you, how can we be kin if that is the case?” Jon asks.

The figure laughs then, a shrill sound. “I bear the same name as the sister you love the most of all your family. I was her namesake, and I know you better than almost anyone else on this world.”

Jon looks at the figure, and then whispers. “Arya Stark? You are my father’s grandmother?”

The woman before him laughs then. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I am your mother’s grandmother.”

Jon looks at her and asks. “You know who my mother is?”

The woman looks at him sadly and replies. “I know who your mother was Jon.”

“My mother is dead then?” Jon asks, a sad feeling engulfing him.

The woman looks surprised. “You do not know? Still after all this time, you do not know? Gods what did Eddard tell you?” the woman shakes her head and then says. “Yes, your mother is dead, and has been for some time.” she pauses a moment and then asks. “Tell me what do you know of the tourney of Harrenhal?”

Jon is not sure what this has to do with anything, but he says. “I know it was where Prince Rhaegar crowned my Aunt Lyanna Stark queen of Love and Beauty, and began the descent into rebellion and madness.”

There is a moment’s silence and then the woman before him, his great-grandmother says. “She was not your aunt Jon, she was your mother. And the prince who crowned her was your sire.”

It is Jon’s turn to laugh. “You jest, surely. You cannot be serious, there was no child produced from that union.”

“Do you know where your father brought you back from?” his great-grandmother asks.

“No, he would never tell me.” Jon says, a feeling of sickness growing through him.

“And what other reason would your father, would Eddard have from keeping that from you, unless he was worried that telling you would lead to his greatest secret from being discovered?” his great-grandmother asks.

“What are you saying woman?” Jon snaps.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, but she merely smiles and then says. “You were brought from Dorne, and your uncle named you a bastard to protect you I belief, though whether you are trueborn or a bastard I do not know. But that is the truth, you are a dragon and a wolf, and you must embrace both sides of your heritage, otherwise this world is lost.”

“Lost?” Jon asks, focusing on her words, not the revelation. “How would the world be lost?”

“There is a darkness coming as you well know, the Watch is not what it once was. It has fallen into disrepair and into rotting. It is time for it to be cleansed and something new put in place. Death is walking a fine line with winter this time around, and that which was asleep for generation is now coming back to wake, and cause chaos once more. You are needed to protect the world from this darkness, you and your family must fight as one, and you cannot allow destruction and corruption to erode into yourselves. For that, that would give them what they want.” his great-grandmother says.

“And what is it that they want? If you know so much about them, you must know what they want?” Jon asks.

His great-grandmother looks at him with sad eyes then. “If I knew that, I would never have gone away, I would have remained at Winterfell, for I can see that Lyarra’s boy never did much good in preparing the north for the storm that is to come. But there is one piece of advice I can give you, the boy who is with you all, Jojen Reed, he is a dangerous person and must be removed.”

Jon turns back and looks at where the Reed children are, Bran is there with him, and Jon looks at his brother briefly, before turning back to the woman and asking. “Why? Why is he such a danger?”

His great-grandmother looks at him and says. “Because he is not what he seems. Remember what you were taught about the Marsh king, and then look at him. He is not a boy, but a devil in disguise.”

The cracking of a branch makes Jon turn his head, and there standing before them is Jojen Reed, his eyes alight, his face screwed into a snarl. “What are you telling them old woman?”

The woman before him looks terrified. “The truth. You are no boy, but a beast, and it is time you were destroyed.”

The boy laughs. “You are a fool woman, whatever you might think, it was corrupted by the husband who you drove away. Now, leave us alone and be gone.”

Jon feels something wrong with the situation, he looks at the boy and then at his great-grandmother, and in that moment he makes a decision. He shall remove the boy himself, and ensure that his brother is broken from whatever spell he is under. He draws Longclaw and looks at the Reed boy. “Back away Jojen, back away if you know what is good for you.”

Reed looks at him and laughs. “Are you going to kill me Jon Snow? Or should that be Jaehaerys Targaryen? Are you going to have me killed for the words of a mad woman? That would not be very honourable now would it?”

Jon looks at the boy and then says. “Honour doesn’t mean anything when compared to protecting family.” and so he buries Longclaw deep within Reed’s stomach, and he hears a scream and two wolves howling, and the laughter of a witch come back from the dead.

* * *

 

**3 rd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

His stomach felt as if it were on fire, something was wrong with him, and death was sure to come, he could feel its cold hands gripping his shoulders. He knew that Joanna might be out there somewhere, looking and waiting, he was not sure if he had ever believed in the afterlife, but increasingly as he got older he found himself wondering at all of that, whether or not there was something that might have been done to remove such a thing from, the uncertainty of death. He did not like uncertainty, and had striven most of his life to remove it from his actions, and yet now, now he was faced with the greatest of challenges. Gods his stomach hurt.

“Lord Tywin, what word has there been from Mace Tyrell?” his grandson the king asks. “Has he said what the position within the reach is?”

Tywin looks at the letters before him, fighting the urge to wince. “It seems that the Ironborn are growing bolder Your Grace. As you know, the shield islands had already fallen by the time the Tyrells left the city, but since arriving there, Mace Tyrell has found the Ironborn dividing their ships, one section going off on a raiding mission around the western coast, sacking Bandallon, Blackcrown and Three Towers. It seems they are preparing for an assault on Oldtown, though to what end Tyrell is not sure. Furthermore, another contingent of ships has sailed up the Mander and is currently blockading Highgarden. Tyrell has naturally decided to make that his first priority, though the Redwyne fleet is moving toward the Whispering Sound with great haste.”

The king looks at him intently, and Tywin sees Joanna’s shrewdness in his gaze, that is something, something he is thankful for. “And what of Lord Tarly, the man set forth from Maidenpool, has he reached Storm’s End yet?”

Tywin nods, feeling another bolt of pain run through him. “He has, and as such the siege has commenced, and this time it seems as though it might finally be going somewhere. The garrison of the castle, are not loyal to Stannis Baratheon, they are instead loyal simply toward the Baratheon name, and with you being the king, and they will soon capitulate.”

“You seem certain of that Lord Tywin. How can you be so sure, they might well hold out to spite you, because of the fact that it is Tarly who is commanding the siege.” Martell says.

Tywin feels something within him begin to rot, and he knows then that the Viper had something to do with this. He looks at him a moment and then responds. “They might well continue resisting, but with another army determined to march and take the castle, I do not think they shall. Baratheons have long been respected in the Stormlands, the Targaryens have not. That is if of course, the boy is a true Targaryen.”

“And of course that cannot be possible, considering you saw the last true male Targaryen slain as a babe did you not Lord Tywin?” the viper asks.

Tywin feels his anger grow then, just as another bolt of pain runs through him. “Indeed I did. Aegon Targaryen has long since been dead and buried. Viserys Targaryen is dead, and the boy’s sister, Daenaerys is somewhere in Essos making a mess of things. So this boy is a pretender and should be treated as such.”

“Unless of course there is more to this boy than meets the eye. He has Jon Connington fighting for him, and I do not think Connington would fight for someone he believed to be a pretender. That and the presence of the Golden Company behind him should make him a threat.” Martell says.

“The Golden Company were traditionally Blackfyre loyalists, and yet there are no more Blackfyres left, they all died following the end of the war of the ninepenny kings.” Tywin states. “So whoever this boy is, he is clearly pulling some sort of con, and with inside help.”

“And who might be wanting to aid put a dragon back on the throne? After all, they brought us nothing but pain and problem a plenty.” the viper responds.

“I can think of one family in particular that would benefit from having a pretender claiming the throne. To disguise from their true intentions.” Tywin quips.

“Do you have proof of this my lord hand? Otherwise, some might think you were talking too big for one reason or another.” The viper responds.

Before Tywin can respond, another bolt of pain runs through him, and the king speaks. “Enough, whether or not this boy is real, is not the issue here. The issue is that he wishes to take Storm’s End, and as such we must ensure that he does not. I want word sent to Lord Tarly, tell him to prepare for an attack and should he see any host approaching he is to kill them on sight. I do not want anyone getting any ideas.” the king pauses a moment and then says. “Lord Varys, I want you to send letters to these people, make them destroy one another, make them bleed.”

The eunuch nods. “Of course Your Grace. It would be my pleasure to do so.”

The king nods and then says. “If there is nothing else, then this meeting is at an end.” The king stands and they stand with him, bowing their heads as he walks out.

Tywin watches as the others walk out of the council chamber, his body racked with pain, and then he sits down, closes his eyes and breathes for a moment, when he opens his eyes, she is there before him, as she said she would be. “Have you come to gloat?”

He feels her hands on his face, and her breath is a whisper on his face. “I do not gloat Tywin, my love. You know this, I know this. But we both know your end is here. Do not fight it.”

Tywin looks at her and says. “I know, but I never was any good at waiting.” a bolt of pain racks through his body, causing him to groan and then he slumps forward, and Tywin Lannister does not wake.


	26. Here Lies, The Ashes Of The Wake

**3 rd Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

His grandfather was dead, had been found dead lying face down on the council table, Tommen had been shocked and surprised when the word had come. He had thought his grandfather would outlive him, would outlive them all, and he suspected that all was not what it seemed. From what Pycelle had been able to identify, there was some substance within his grandfather’s body that broken down his system, poison in other words. Tommen knew who many thought the culprit was, Prince Oberyn had not exactly shown that much remorse at Lord Tywin’s passing, and yet Tommen did not think it was him, and there was some other game at play. Some other player, and he wanted to know who it was. Of course before he could do that, he needed to stop his family from tearing itself apart. “We are not going to summon Myrcella back from Dorne. There is not enough evidence to suggest that Prince Oberyn had a hand in this, to suggest that he did and to summon Myrcella back would be a dangerous and foolish move right now. No we shall wait and see.”

“Wait and see for what? For that Dornish snake to bring down another one of us? He has an agenda and he knows that the more he can wound us the weaker he makes us look. He wants that Targaryen boy on the throne.” his mother says.

Tommen runs a hand through his hair then, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “We do not even know whether or not that boy is who he claims to be. Besides, he might well not even make it to Storm’s End. Lord Tarly has his orders, and he will carry them out.”

“That is if he does not move to the boy’s side. Tarly was a Targaryen loyalist during the rebellion.” his mother says.

“As were all of the Reachmen during the rebellion mother. What is your point? That I call them all back or look at them with suspicion? If I do that, I will not be able to sleep at night and I might as well take Lady Margaery’s head from her shoulders now and be done with it.” Tommen replies.

“That would solve most of the problems we are currently facing Your Grace.” His mother says emphatically. “It would make the most amount of sense to do. The Tyrell girl remains a direct threat the longer she remains alive. Get rid of her.”

“If His Grace kills Lady Margaery then the Tyrells will revolt and half the realm with them. She has done nothing wrong, that we know of. No I say keep her alive and allow her to fester.” His uncle Tyrion says.

“Of course you would, you want her for yourself.” his mother snaps.

Tommen sighs. “Enough mother, Lady Margaery is under scrutiny and we have something over her that will mean that she does not move from her place here. There will be no scheming on her part, her grandmother has more sense than to try anything as well.” he pauses a moment then, and then turns to look at his uncle. “You are now the Lord of the Rock uncle. As such there is much and more that you must do. I would send you back to the Westerlands, see to your affairs and when you feel they are in order, return, you are the new master of coin.”

His uncle nods looking pleased. “It would be my honour to Your Grace.”

Tommen is silent a moment and then says. “You also need to marry and sire children. As such I think it would be best if you married Alysanne Lefford. The Leffords suffered greatly during the war, and now we must take in their gold to pay of the crown’s debts.”

His uncle looks surprised at this, but merely nods his acceptance. Mother however, it seems does not. “And what about his whore?”

Tommen stares at his mother and then asks. “What of her?”

“Well are you going to allow him to take her?” his mother replies.

“The Lady Shae is to remain here for the time being. You are to spend time with your wife to be uncle. I do not want any trouble there.” Tommen replies. Again his uncle nods, though there is a strange look on his face. Tommen ignores it and turns his attention to his mother. “As for you mother, it is time for you to marry once more. My traitor of an uncle has been spreading these foul rumours about you, and the best way to prevent them from coming into fruition is to have you marry and sire more children.”

“I refuse to marry. I will not leave King’s Landing.” His mother says. “I am your mother, you cannot just sell me off, as if I am nothing more than chattel.”

Tommen snorts then. “I am the king, you will marry who I command you to marry.” his mother goes to protest and Tommen cuts through her. “It is either this, or you join the silent sisters mother. I cannot have you here causing problems for Sansa. She is the Queen now, not you.”

His mother looks furious, and yet she asks. “Who am I to marry Your Grace?”

Tommen is silent, considering how to phrase this next sentence. “You have a choice here mother, either marry Willas Tyrell and become Lady of Highgarden, or marry Prince Oberyn.”

“A cripple or a traitor, these are the two choices you would give me?” his mother asks disbelievingly. Tommen merely nods. His mother is silent a moment and then says. “I will go for the one whom I might be able to control. Willas Tyrell.”

Tommen merely nods and then says. “Good.” he pauses turns to his great uncle Kevan and says. “Uncle Kevan, you shall be my hand for the time being. I want you to find out as much as you can about Lord Varys and Lord Baelish.”

His great uncle looks surprised but then says. “Of course Your Grace, but why those two in particular?”

“Because they are the two who I mean to completely destroy.” Tommen replies.

* * *

 

**Lord Robb Stark**

He could not wait to leave King’s Landing, he wanted to return home and to destroy those who had tried to break his home, he wanted to rebuild Winterfell, he wanted to laugh with Jon, and spar with Bran and Rickon. He wanted to do all these things and more. He wanted to have the chance to live his life, as a lord not a king. He wanted to do many and more things, and he knew that allying with Tommen Baratheon, the King of Westeros was the right thing to do, even if he did not quite like bending. It was hard to bend when once you had been king. Looking at the boy before him, Robb wonders how much he knows of that.

“Do not look so worried Stark.” the king says, his voice light.

“Worried? I am not worried Your Grace, I am merely thinking that is all.” Robb replies.

“Thinking? About what?” the king asks.

“The journey north, it will take some time to march back through the snow, and in winter men can get very hungry. I am trying to achieve many things here, and I do not wish to lessen them.” Robb responds honestly.

The king looks at him a moment and then says. “Your lords have been fighting Snow and my uncle for some time now have they not?” Robb nods and the king goes on. “Then there is less of an issue here than there might have been. Unless, you are worrying about turning up after the fighting is done, and with men from the crownlands not the north.”

For a boy, the king is quite observant, more so than Robb was at his age. He looks at the king a moment and then says. “Indeed that is one concern, but winter is here, and my men know how to fight in winter, but these southern men do not. I do not want to be perceived as an invader into my own home.”

The king is silent a moment and then replies. “You won’t be though. Surely men such as Lord Wyman would be running the propaganda for you, and making it seem like your return is the return of the glorious age?”

Robb considers this. “Indeed he might well be doing such a thing, but it is one thing for that to be there, and another for people to believe it. Northmen are very suspicious by nature, and I have been away for too long. I shall ensure my people are safe.”

The king nods, then asks. “So tell me my lord, what do you make of Lady Margaery? Do you believe that she should be allowed to return home when the fighting is over?”

Margaery Tyrell, a confusing girl, she claims not to want power, and yet does everything she can to obtain it. Robb wonders at the king’s questioning, but merely replies. “I believe that she is a valuable tool to have, Mace Tyrell is a man who is like to forget just where it is that he needs to be looking if you give him his daughter back. With the dragons back, perhaps it is time to remind him of your father’s leniency.”

The king looks at him, a smile on his face. “Well, when the time comes, I believe I have the perfect role for you. You are to be the new master of laws. Rosby is old and dying, and it is time we had some new blood in the council chambers.” the king pauses a moment and then says. “Tell me Lord Stark what do you know of Lord Baelish?”

Robb considers the question, he senses that there is a reason behind this line of questioning, and so he keeps his face neutral when he replies. “I know that the man was a friend of my mother’s when they were children, and I know he challenged my uncle Brandon for a duel for my mother’s hand when they were but our age. I also know he served as master of coin on the small council. Why do you ask, Your Grace?”

The king sighs then. “Because the man has been spreading slanderous rumours about himself and your departed mother. He claims to have taken her maidenhead when they were children, and that he was the woman she loved. He has fled to the Vale, and I do believe he is poisoning your aunt, the Lady Lysa.”

Robb feels anger begin to boil inside of him and he asks. “Poisoning her how?”

The king sighs once more. “The Vale has not been paying its full amount in taxes for some time, this is an oversight that Baelish allowed, and has cost us dearly. He furthermore, it seems has been spreading rumours about the role my family played in Jon Arryn’s death, all lies of course. The Vale has been a troubled region as of late, and I intend to fix that.”

“How do you intend to do that Your Grace?” Robb asks.

The king sighs and says. “I intend for you to go there when you are free from duties in the north. Go and speak with your aunt and make her see sense. And kill Baelish.”

“Kill him? Not bring him back for questioning?” Robb asks.

The king shakes his head. “No, that man has caused far too many problems for the crown. It is time he got his just desert. See him dead, and you shall be rewarded for it.” the king stands, and Robb stands with him. “I wish you safe travels on your journey north, and I am sure that you shall face little to no difficulties.”

Robb watches as the king walks out of his room, he waits a few moments and then goes to the hidden door and opens it. He is not surprised to find the girl there, curled up and nearly asleep. “How long have you been hiding there?”

“A while my lord. My lady wanted to know what the king was going to say.” the girl replies.

Robb looks at her and then sighing says. “Well know you know.” He helps her out and then says. “Stay a while, if you will Desmera.”

* * *

 

**Outside Storm’s End**

**Lord Randyll Tarly**

The siege had been going well, it had seemed as though the castellan might actually bend, unlike Stannis had when the rebellion had been waging. Stannis Baratheon, a man with little sense, a man who claimed to be king, for greed or jealousy, Randyll was not sure, but he did not truly care. He knew there was one thing that needed to be done and that was to take Storm’s End. Of course that was somewhat complicated by the fact that there was now another army wanting the castle. Aegon the pretender’s army was marching toward them, and as he watched their banners flapping in the wind, Randyll could not help but laugh, the dragons truly had sunk low if they were sending this boy to lead their charge. His father had been a failure, and he would be as well. Those dragons always were.

Drawing Heartsbane from its sheath, Randyll raises the sword high into the air and roars out a command. He digs his spurs into his horse and sets them off, first at a light trot, his heart is beginning the dance it always does before a battle, Dickon is at his side, no son of his would dare ride in the reserve, and no true Tarly would either. The enemy is coming at them now as well, Randyll can see them, the boy in his father’s armour, leading from the front that will be the boy’s downfall leading from the front when he knows nothing of the terrain. His heart is beginning the ritual once more, moving forward, advancing, he sees men he has not seen in years, exiles, all of them, members of the company, and he smiles.

He digs his spurs in a bit harder, and advances the horse into a gallop, they are moving quickly now, Heartsbane weighs heavily in his hand, but he knows that today they will taste victory, to avenge the loss of his brother all those years ago. He will remove the boy just as he should have removed the boy’s father. The crash when it comes is something that fills him with energy, he swings his sword, swinging with a ruthless efficiency that belies all else, he cuts men down to size, leaves them broken and bruised, he cuts them down and swings and slashes. Men fall to their deaths, broken, the foot are going to break, he knows that and he loves that. The only place he has ever been able to get anything done, the battlefield, his father spoke true when he said that Randyll was a born soldier, all those years ago, it seems so long, and so he swings his sword and revels in it.

The feeling of being alive, truly alive, is a rare one for Randyll, he does not know why, but fighting is the only thing that has ever truly given him any pleasure, and now, now it is the only thing keeping him alive. That and making sure Dickon knows how to be a Tarly, he failed with the first one, and he shall not fail with the second one. He cuts through the throng, keeping one eye on Dickon, making sure the boy does not stray too far from the plan that they created. He knows his son, and knows that there will come a time when he shall need to command the vanguard, but for the time being, Randyll is in command, and so they do it as Randyll wishes. He swings his sword, and watches as the blood continues to grow, there is blood on his hands, but he relishes in it.

Men fall before him, and Randyll laughs, he laughs at the absurdity of this all, he is fighting the son of the man he once pledged allegiance to, gods know where this is coming from, but the thought is not stopping. He continues swinging his sword, and watches as the sellswords fall to their deaths, broken by the efficient onslaught of his men and the army. They push forward, howling like beasts, breaking their backs, and hurting their enemies, Randyll roars another command and soon they are fighting even harder than they did before. It is truly something, the feeling of holding a man’s life in your hands, Randyll knows his brother relished it, but he is not his brother, he saw to that, just as he saw to his brother.

The memory haunts him still, but now is not the time for that, reminiscing only makes him weak, and he cannot be weak, not now, definitely not now. He pushes through it all, swinging his sword, fighting like a mad man, he supposes he is, he is a mad man, but he does not know where to begin, or how to end it. He just goes on, swinging his sword, cutting men down, feeling the chaos of it all. Men are pushing around him, destroying themselves on their spikes, swords and countless other weapons. He is tired, so very tired, and yet he continues he swings his sword, and hacks away at the enemy before him, determined to end them and get to the boy. The boy is the key to all of this. Get him and this battle is over.

He hears a gasp, and turns to see a sword protruding from Dickon’s stomach, and something inside him snaps. He cannot lose his son, his heir, he cannot. He roars, and turns his horse toward his son’s attacker, and proceeds to ride as fast as he can. He swings his sword, killing one man and then another, and yet his son’s attacker continues to evade him, he knows something is wrong, there is something else at work here, but he does not know nor does he care what it is. Instead he continues fighting, swinging his sword, and then the sound of thunder echoes, and Randyll looks up to see beasts approaching, just as one of them lets loose a terrifying sound, he feels something bury itself within him, and he looks down to see a spear protruding from his chest. 


	27. Funeral March

**The Mountains**

**Jon Snow**

Jojen Reed falls to the ground, laughter echoes in Jon’s ears, and he wonders just briefly if he has made the right decision. This could have consequences, he has just killed the heir to Greywater Watch, one of his brother’s loyalist bannermen. Deep down he knows that it was the right choice, there was something deeply wrong with Jojen Reed, and from looking at Bran he knows his brother feels the same, and yet, and yet there is a part of him that is worrying now, truly worrying, he does not want things to become harder now, but he fears he might well have made them so.

A scream breaks through the fog in his mind, and he turns to see Meera Reed, the boy’s sister running toward them, she screams and then she slaps him. “What have you done? Why have you done this? What did Jojen ever do to you?!”

He stares at her and the pain in his cheek nullified by the anger growing inside of him, how dare this girl question him. “I did what needed to be done. Your brother was a threat and he has been taken care of.”

The girl slaps him again and then yells. “He was doing what he thought was the right thing to do. He came and protected your brother when you were off fucking a wildling girl. How dare you say he was a danger.”

Jon feels his anger grow even more. “He was trying to take my little brother north of the wall, despite knowing of the dangers that are present there. He was willing to risk Bran’s safety for some stupid vision. I will not accept that his death was anything but right.”

The girl goes to slap him once more, but this time he grabs her hand and tightens his grip, fire blazing inside of him. “You are a coward Jon Snow, you are not the man I thought you would be, that Jojen thought you would be. You are nothing. You know nothing.”

“Do not think to talk to me like you know me girl. I do not know you, and you do not know me. That is that.” he pauses and then looks at his great-grandmother who throughout all of this has remained standing there looking at him with deep interest. “Now what more needs to be done.”

“You are going to seek advice from this hag?” Meera Reed questions. “You truly are dumber than I thought. Then again, if you are anything like your brother then that is no surprise.”

Jon looks at her, his anger growing more and fiercer as time goes on. And what exactly do you mean by that frog eater?”

“She means that because I am your great-grandmother you are giving me undue influence. She fears that her brother has died in vain, when in reality her brother died a long time ago.” his great-grandmother replies.

“What are you talking about? Do not speak in riddles to me.” Jon growls.

“I mean that when they were in that cave, they had the solution of the children, and that was when her brother died. She knows that, and yet she never accepts it.” the woman replies.

“Solution? What solution?” Jon asks.

His brother gasps then, and he turns to look at him. Bran has gone white, white as the snow that covers the ground. “The paste, the paste, he was in the paste.”

“You lie!” Meera screams. “How could he be in the paste, there was nothing in that paste, otherwise we would never have been able to leave the cave.”

“You mean you knew I was never supposed to leave that cave?” Bran asks. “How could you let me go then?”

“Jojen thought it needed to be done.” Meera replies her voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you both speaking about?” Jon snaps.

Reed looks away from him, but Bran replies, his voice soft. “Before we came to the mountains we stayed in a cave where there were children, actual children of the forest, and they made me have a paste, it tasted foul and Jojen continued to grow weak. And well, suddenly his recovery happened, and I did not think it was normal.”

As the realisation of what his brother is implying hits him, Jon feels revulsion growing within him. He looks at his great-grandmother and asks. “Why? Why would they do that? And who was this person pretending to be Jojen then?”

Arya Flint gives him a sad smile and says. “There was some of Jojen left inside the body, but there was more of the last greenseer there, the man has become desperate, desperate to leave his cage. Ever since he learned the truth of the children.”

“Truth?” Jon asks. “What truth?”

“They are not the heroes of legend, or at least those that are left are not. Driven into the woods and the caves of the dark, by your ancestors they came to despise humanity, and now, well now they work to bring us down.” his great-grandmother replies.

“That is a lie.” Meera says. “It has to be.”

“It is not, but that is neither here nor there. You cannot do anything without a Stark in Winterfell. Move for Winterfell and be done with this nonsense once and for all.” his great-grandmother says.

“What good will that do?” Jon asks. “I am not its lord, and I am not the heir. Bran and Rickon are the rightful rulers of Winterfell, and I cannot find Rickon.”

His great-grandmother places a hand on his face, her hand is cold to feel. “Your brother is coming home with an army of merman, it is time for Brandon to return home as well. All will become clearer with time, I promise.”

Jon stares at his great-grandmother and then asks. “What of men? I will not enter Winterfell without men.”

“I thought you would say that, and so I asked my nephew to bring the men of the mountains.” His great-grandmother replies and then she claps her hands and the fog disappears and there standing and waiting are the men of the clans, all ready for battle. “Go home Jon, and take back what was taken from us.”

* * *

 

**3 rd Month of 300 A.C. Meereen**

**Queen Daenaerys I Targaryen**

The dust settled and then there was darkness, in that darkness Dany felt all sorts of horrible things. Grief, Daario was dead, her lover was gone, but she wondered if he had ever truly been hers. Things were becoming clearer to her now, there was much and more that she had missed, but she knew she had to bring things back into perspective and work. She coughs and then realises that Ser Barristan is dead, as is the man who killed him. The wings move and the light comes back, the krakens are on their knees before her, looking terrified. Dany stands shakily and then asks. “Who is in command?”

There is a moment’s silence and then. “I am Your Grace.”

“And who are you?” she asks.

“I am Dagon Codd Your Grace.” the man responds.

“And tell me Dagon, why should I not kill you? You have come here to cause more chaos undoubtedly, and your leader whoever he was, no doubt thought to control me. So tell me, why you should not die as well.” Daenaerys asks.

The man looks surprised, but replies. “Because I control the ships and because if you wish to go home, we are your surest way of doing that.”

Daenaerys looks at the man then and replies. “How many ships do you have?”

“Some sixty war ships in total Your Grace, and some fifty more that were captured on our journey here.” Codd responds.

Dany considers this and then replies. “Very well, we shall leave by night fall.”

“Night fall Your Grace?” Codd all but stutters.

“Yes, I am done with Meereen, it is time for me to return home. I shall see you at the city harbour within the hour. Now leave me.” Dany replies.

The man bows and leaves, taking the Ironborn with him, though one figure remains, a figure with skin as black as pitch, a giant. “I told everyone to leave. Who are you?”

“I am Moqorro Your Highness, and I have come to serve you.” the man responds.

Dany looks at him and then something clicks inside her head. “You are one of those red priests are you not? One of them gave myself and my brother shelter when we travelled Essos many years ago. Why have you come?”

The man smiles, and something about him makes Dany wonder about him, he seems familiar and soon enough she is given her answer. “I was the one who saw to it that your brother and you were taken care of during your voyages Your Grace. You have been very important to me for many years now, and I have come to pledge myself to you.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Dany asks.

“Through showing you a demonstration of my powers Your Grace. You cannot leave Meereen behind, the harpy will come for you no matter where you are. You must have it burned down, only death can bring an end to this trouble.” Moqorro replies.

Dany looks at the man and then noticing a horn on the floor she picks it up and holds it up for him to look at. “What is this?”

“A dragon horn Your Grace, a tool by which anyone not of the dragon blood could try to control your dragons.” Moqorro replies.

“Burn it.” Dany states.

The man merely nods and takes the horn from Dany, before saying a few words and making the horn disappear into ash. Somewhere, Dany swears she hears a roar, but she puts it from her mind and then turns to look at the man. “I want you at the harbour in one hour. When that hour comes, you shall destroy Meereen.” The man bows and then leaves, leaving Dany to stand in the Pyramid her dragons there with her. She wonders where Quentyn Martell and that silver haired boy have gone, but she finds she does not care. One way or another she will find them and they will pay for their crimes against her. She runs her hand over her children’s scales, and then making a decision walks out of the pyramid, knowing her children will follow her.

She stands at the top of the pyramid, looking down at the city below, her children are hungry for food, and she knows that they will not have a true chance to feed when they leave here, and so she merely thinks for a moment and then whispers. “Go, feed. Eat and enjoy the last of the people of Meereen.” Her dragons roar and then the fire begins. She listens as the city below screams as the flames begin to grow, and she knows she will despise herself for this later, but now, now she wants only to return home. Later much later she mounts Drogon and flies to the harbour where she finds the Ironborn and Moqorro waiting for her. She dismounts and asks the man Codd. “Are all here?”

“Yes Your Grace.” the man responds.

“Good. Tell them to board their ships.” Dany responds before she turns to Moqorro and says curtly. “Do it now.”

Dany watches as the man begins to speak, fire comes flowing through his hands, adding to the fire that her children created. She watches as the fire settles and then spreads, she watches it catch, and a feeling of power overcomes her. She has done what they wanted her not to do, and now the whole city shall die. She mounts Drogon and calls out. “We sail for King’s Landing, let us take the city of my ancestors. Let them quake with fear, for I have come home.” There is a general cheer, and then she watches the men board the ships before spurring Drogon up into the air. Below her Meereen burns, and she feels alive. For the first time in a long, long time, she feels alive, as they fly she feels truly whole, and then she hears a roar and finds another before her, his eyes purple and his hair violet.

* * *

 

**Riverlands**

**Lord Robb Stark**

It was taking some time, he knew, but there were a few things that he needed to take care of first, the Brotherhood Without Banners were causing some issues, and Robb had a feeling he knew just who it was that was behind it. As he thought of it, he did feel quite smug, he had managed to out play Tywin Lannister, oh yes, the man thought the brotherhood were doing this of their own free will, and yet, and yet they were not. He had always known what well might have happened when the wedding happened, and so he had prepared for it.

“Tell me, what you know of the leader of the brotherhood?” he asks his uncle Edmure.

His uncle looks at him a moment and then replies. “Not much truth be told, though I know that they have continued persecuting Freys as well as Lannister soldiers, and perhaps even some rivermen who were so ready to bend to the Lannisters.”

Robb nods. “Good, that is very good.”

“How is that good? Surely, the fact that they continue to cause issue is something of a danger to us all? It would not make sense for them to continue existing, not now that you have bent the knee.” his uncle replies.

“And that is why we are going to finish this once and for all.” Robb replies, seeing his uncle’s confusion he merely says. “Trust me, when I say that you will understand soon enough.” He dismounts alongside his uncle and they walk the distance to where the brotherhood are said to be. When they arrive at the clearing he merely stares ahead, at the bodies affixed to the trees. “We have come, as asked. Now let me see you.” he calls out.

There is a moment’s silence and then the figure appears followed by one or two guards, as he asked. The figure walks slowly with a bit of a limp, and then they stop before him. “You have come alone?” the figure asks.

“With Edmure and no one else.” Robb says. “Is she here?”

The figure shakes their head. “No, she left. She left with the hound?”

“Where?” Robb asks.

“To see your sister in King’s Landing.” the figure replies.

Robb nods. “Very well then, remove your hood mother.”

The figure lowers her hood, and Robb feels his heart ache. His mother’s lovely face is scared, but other than that she is alive and well. They look at one another a moment and then hug. “I have missed you son.”

“And I you.” Robb responds.

“What?” Edmure gasps breaking the moment. “How….how is this possible?”

Robb breaks the hug and then turns to look at his uncle. “It was the plan the whole time. Sit down uncle, this might take some time.” His uncle stares at mother for some time, but sits down all the same. Robb takes a deep breath and then says. “After I broke my promise to wed a Frey girl, I suspected something might happen, Walder Frey was too much of a proud man to sense anything else but betrayal, and so he plotted his own. I came to learn of it from Walder Rivers when they came to discuss your marriage, and we began planning our own revenge. Walder Frey was offered something, and in exchange the wedding would change some. But for others to think that it was genuine sacrifices had to be made.” At this he pauses and his mother takes up the tale.

“One of those sacrifices was me. I had to be dead for a time, they had to wound me enough that when I came too, I would not be too disoriented and would not forget what I needed to do. I apologise for the chaos in the riverlands brother, but it needed to be done. In order for the king to trust Robb when he revealed himself, there needed to be reason for Robb to work from the shadows. I was that reason. The brotherhood died a long time ago the moment Harwin left, the brotherhood died.” mother says.

“But… but why did you not come forward after he had revealed himself?” Edmure asks.

“Because, it was not the right time. Now that the brotherhood has been finally dealt with, I might return home, and be a mother once more.” mother replies.

At this Robb looks at his mother and asks. “Where is Arya mother?”

His mother looks at him concerned but merely says. “She is sleeping Robb.”

Robb merely nods. “You will need to ride for Seagard soon and take a ship to Barrowton. The Freys will be dead and gone by the time you arrive at Seagard.” he pauses a moment and then says. “Furthermore, Bran and Rickon are alive mother. They are coming home as well.”

His mother looks at him stunned, and her voice is choked when she asks. “You are certain?”

“Most definitely, I had a letter from Lord Wyman himself, and Rickon wrote something to me.” Robb responds, handing his mother a letter, and smiling as she reads it. She hugs him once more, and then when they break apart, he speaks. “I must go, but I shall see you in Winterfell mother.” He stops and then looks at the figure that has come behind his mother. “You know what do I trust uncle?” The figure merely nods. Robb turns round, stops and looks at his mother. “Make sure none of the others leave here alive mother.”

“Have no fear sweetling, they will not live to see another day.” his mother replies. Robb stops and kisses his mother’s cheek and then walks back to his horse and mounts it, before spurring it on. His uncle rides at his side, they ride in silence for a long time and then he speaks. “It had to be done, and I make no apologies for it.”

“How many more secrets do you have Robb?” his uncle asks.

“You have no idea. I am a wolf, and my pack’s secrets are mine now.” Robb responds.

 


	28. Dance For Me

**3 rd Month of 300 A.C. Somewhere over Slaver’s Bay**

**Queen Daenaerys I Targaryen**

The figure before her is sat on her dragon, one of her children is there before her, and she knows, she just knows something is going to happen now. The figure has silver hair and violet eyes, and he grins at her. He grins and she feels like she has seen him before, but she does not know where, the anger inside her is growing, developing, forming into something bold and brash, into something deep and penetrating. She wants this figure dead, and she wants to be the one to kill him. “Where is your cousin?” she asks.

“He has gone, gone to see that you never make it to Westeros.” the figure replies.

“And he can try to stop me, but now that I have my army, he will never succeed.” Dany responds.

The figure merely smiles and says. “I would not be so sure of that. He is from Dorne, and the Dornish do not bend so easily.”

Dany does not bother responding instead she commands Drogon to unleash a burst of fire, which engulfs the figure and one of her children, but they emerge from it unscathed, Dany feels something like shock engulf her then, but she pushes on. She barks a command and Drogon unleashes another burst of fire. Another burst of fire, and then another, but the two figures come out unscathed. “Come now, do not be so foolish, if you want me dead come and fight me.” the figure replies mockingly, before turning and moving away.

Dany feels her anger grow stronger, the figure is being so very impudent, she thinks she might just lash out. She spurs Drogon on, chasing the figure and her child through the fog, moving further and further away from the ships below. They engage in fire dance, and Dany feels something within her scream at this unnatural act, her children should not be fighting, they should be working with one another to bring down this false pretender. She roars a command and this time her second child comes out of the darkness and begins engaging in a dance with the other dragon. Dany watches, transfixed and horrified at the same time, as her children fight and burn one another, and yet she does nothing to stop it. There is something primal about it, something that must needs be done, if one wants to achieve power. She is tired of waiting and hiding, she wants to see power and she wants it now.

Dany whispers a command and soon enough she is flying toward the dancing dragons before her, she hurtles into them and engages in the biting and clawing of her children. She feels as if she is being torn apart, but she knows deep down that this has to happen, they cannot succeed divided, either she must find a way to bring her children to heel or two of them must die. The figure with the silver hair is laughing, jeering at her, calling out commands at her child and she feels her heart tear into two, she wants this figure brought before her and killed, she wants him dead. By the gods she wants him dead, so very badly, she knows he must die, and yet she wants to know who he is as well. She does not know truly who he is but she feels as if she does, some vague memory is playing within her mind.

The dance is tearing her in two, she feels as if she is betraying one child, and hurting another, only Drogon seems to be fighting without any care in the world. He has always been the most dominant one of her children, and as such right now he is in his dominant habitat, fighting and killing. She watches from his back as though she is far away, watches as he tears into Viserion and has her child fights back, killing biting, it is all the same to her children. Her heart feels as if it is being ripped from her shoulders, by the gods it hurts. But it still happens, every time there is a bite or a blast of fire, she feels her heart fall to the ground and die. It hurts, it truly hurts and yet it happens again and again, again and again. It continues happening until finally one of her children, Viserion she thinks falls down to the ground tumbling his body bloodied and broken, nothing left of him. She cries, and Drogon howls and yet they continue fighting, there is no reprieve for her, her heart has to continue falling down.

Drogon is tiring she can see that now, she can feel it, but he still fights, it’s as if he is possessed and yet still they continue fighting, dancing and crushing one another. There is a sense that she is falling down, that she has failed as a parent, perhaps she should not have allowed the dragons to be chained, perhaps if she had not done that, her heart would not be tearing itself into a million pieces right now. There are so many things she wishes she could do differently, but deep down she thinks that perhaps there is no chance for change, that she had to do as she did, otherwise things would have been much worse for her. It is that uncertainty which is eating away at her, and she feels herself bleeding from gods alone knows what, but she already feels dead, she knows that sooner or later she will die.

The figure falls from her child, plummeting deep down into the waves below, his body broken and bruised and her child follows him, crying with a deep searing pain. She feels betrayed, she feels as if all she knew was a lie, and yet as she watches them fall to their deaths, all she can think is that perhaps all of this was not meant for her. The dragons, the ships, the army, they were all meant for someone else, someone with a true claim to the throne. Perhaps she will find that person when she goes to Westeros, perhaps she will not, either way the deed is done now.

* * *

 

**King’s Landing**

**Ser Kevan Lannister**

The king had called a council meeting late in the day, truth be told it was more night than day, and as such Kevan wondered what might be the pressing matter. He wiped sleep from his eyes, and looked at the king, who seemed alert and awake, considering the lateness of the hour, he could only imagine what the young king had been doing. The king was so unlike his brother, and yet there was more of Robert Baratheon in him than there had been in Joffrey, gods alone knew what that meant, but Kevan did not want to think on that, and so he listened as the king speaks.

“There has been word from Lord Tyrion, he has stopped off at Riverrun and has met with Lord Tully, it seems that the man plans on going north with Lord Stark in order to aid him with dealing with the traitors there. The Blackfish has been left in command of Riverrun. But that is not the main point of his letter, what he wrote to me for, was to say that it seems that there is some new discoveries coming into the Rock.” the king says.

“What sort of discoveries Your Grace?” Kevan asks.

“Artefacts and possessions from across the Sunset Sea. It appears that some of our sailors who set off under my father’s direction have finally returned. And they have brought with them tales of a dark skinned people worshipping lions and wolves.” the king responds.

Kevan looks at the king and sees boyish excitement in the king’s eyes. “I would consider their claims with a hint of caution Your Grace. These sailors might well be looking for some payment for falsified claims.”

The king looks at him and merely says. “That might be true, but I want to see these things for myself and compare them to what we know from a prior expedition. Pycelle that shall be your duty when the time comes.”

The Grand Maester nods, and then Kevan speaks. “There has been word from the Vale Your Grace, it seems Lord Baelish is himself coming to swear fealty alongside his wife and step son.”

The king looks at him then, and Kevan gets a feeling that there is some of Tywin in there as well. It unnerves him somewhat. “And do you think he genuinely means to do this, or is he planning some false move?”

Kevan considers this and then says. “I do not know Your Grace, but from what my enquiries have shown, Baelish is working toward something, something sinister. And it would seem he might well have had a hand in starting the war.”

There is a surprised gasp around the council chamber. “And what evidence is there for that?”

Kevan considers this for a moment and then responds. “He met with Lady Stark and Lord Stark when Lord Stark was hand of the king, about the attack on their son Brandon, and he lied and said that a dagger that had been used was Lord Tyrion’s, when in fact it was his, he had bought it from King Robert some two moons before the court left for Winterfell. Furthermore, it seems from speaking to people within Baelish’s pay, he sent a man after the boy, in order to have him killed to spark the war.”

The king looks angry, very angry now. “Why would he do that?”

Before Kevan can speak, it is the eunuch who responds. “Chaos Your Grace, Baelish wanted to destabilise the realm and come out on top. He has always held a grudge against the Starks, and as such it seems that that is what motivated him.”

The king’s eyes seem as if they are brewing a storm, there is a deep anger there, and Kevan wonders what he might do. “You have sufficient evidence for this?”

Kevan nods. “Yes, the sworn testimony of several of Baelish’s spies and workers who are all willing to testify against him. As well as documents found in the brothels he owns. More than enough to convict him and have him killed.”

The king merely nods. “Good. We shall make it seem as if all is well, there are to be no sudden changes, we shall greet him as we would any normal lord, and then when he is in the throne room he shall be tried. When is he to arrive?”

“In two weeks’ time I believe Your Grace.” Kevan responds.

The king merely nods and then asks. “What word from the Reach and the Stormlands. Has Tarly been successful?”

Kevan sighs then. “Lord Tarly and his son and heir are dead, slain during the battle. Storm’s End however has held out, the force under Tarly was then commanded by Lord Edgar Sloane who held firm against the Golden Company. It seems the pretender retreated, but not before having Sloane killed as well.”

“Where have they retreated to?” the king asks.

“Griffin’s Roost Your Grace, they shall try for another attack soon, with more men.” Kevan responds.

The king considers this a moment and then asks. “And what of the Ironborn?”

“Beaten, the Redwyne fleet has managed to prevent them from getting toward Oldtown, thanks to the efforts of the Hightower fleet as well. Mace Tyrell has managed to save Highgarden, and Euron Greyjoy and his commanders were slain. It seems the Ironborn who were fighting alongside them were massacred.” Kevan says.

The king nods. “Good, send word to Tyrell, I want him to slay this pretender at Griffin’s Roost, and I want him to bring me his head. I want him to march as soon as he can. And remind him I have his daughter.”

Kevan nods. “It shall be done Your Grace.”

There is a pause, and then the king speaks once more. “What of Daenaerys Targaryen, has there been any word on her?”

There is a moment’s silence and then the eunuch speaks. “It seems she might well have found her army and her ships Your Grace. Ironborn under Dagon Codd it seems have found her and are bringing her toward the kingdoms.”

The king sighs. “Send word to Lord Redwyne as well as Lord Hightower, we shall need their ships. And I want a report on how well the building of the ships is going.”


	29. Trials, Five Minutes Alone

**4 th Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The court had gathered to watch the proceedings, Baelish had come alongside his wife and his step son and Tommen could not but wait to throw the man into a black cell or perhaps even to his death. The evidence that uncle Kevan had presented to him and speaking with those working under Baelish was almost conclusive, there would be no hope for Baelish now. He was sealed and trapped, Tommen looked at the man and the woman and child before him and smirked. “Rise Lord and Lady Baelish, and welcome Lord Arryn. It gladdens my heart that you could come today.”

“Of course Your Grace, you are anointed and crowned by the High Septon, we have been remiss so far, and we wished to correct that.” Baelish replies.

Tommen looks at the man and feels hatred run through him. “What sort of difficulties were you facing my lord?”

The man takes a moment to reply, and when he does, Tommen gets the feeling he is lying with the truth. “Some lords were unhappy with my marriage to my lady wife, and thought it was not true. And so I spent time persuading them that it was. As such that took some time.”

The opening that Tommen has been waiting for has come forward much sooner than expected. “Ah, so is that how Lord Nestor Royce was given the Gates of the Moon, and why Lord Yohn Royce was found dead on the way back from the Eyrie?”

There is a large murmuring at this, and the man looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Your Grace? I do not know what you are speaking of.”

“Lord Andar if you could come forward please.” Tommen says his voice imperious.

The new Lord of Runestone emerges from the crowd, a big and fierce man, he looks at Baelish with murder in his eyes. “Is it true my lord, that you were beset upon by bandits who when questioned later admitted to being under Lord Baelish’s employ?”

“Yes Your Grace. Two of them admitted to doing the crime of murdering my father, on his orders. It seemed Lord Baelish wanted my father gone from power.” Lord Andar responds.

“And, pray tell me, why was your father opposed to Lord Baelish marrying his current lady wife?” Tommen asks.

Baelish looks angry at this, though he is trying to keep his face calm, the man’s wife looks confused, and the boy, well Tommen is half convinced the boy is nearly dead on his feet. Lord Andar takes a moment to speak, but when he does his words are fierce. “Because, we had found evidence that Baelish had had a hand in continuing the chaos of the Mountain Clans, as well as seeing to it that Lord Arryn’s father was murdered.”

Tommen looks at the man, as the court whispers amongst themselves. “And tell me, what form did this evidence take?”

“It took the shape of written letters that we were given by the maester of the eyrie, Maester Coleman, as well as the account books that were given to us by members of the Eyrie’s household staff.” the man replies.

Tommen looks at the man, and then looks at Baelish. “How would you respond to these accusations Lord Baelish?”

The man looks deeply angry, though he is fighting hard to prevent it from showing. “I would say that these accusations are baseless, and that Lord Andar clearly bears a grudge.”

Tommen looks at the man and then asks. “And why would he feel the need to bear a grudge?”

The man shrugs. “I do not know. The Royces I have found are a stubborn and idiotic lot sometimes.”

Tommen pretends to look thoughtful for a moment, and then he says. “Ser Kevan come forth if you please.” His great uncle comes forward then, and Tommen asks him. “Ser Kevan, you told me you found evidence implicating Lord Baelish in the murder of Jon Arryn, the attempted murder of Brandon Stark, as well as the pushing of Stark and Lannister into open war. Is that correct?”

His great uncle nods. “It is Your Grace.”

“Would you present the evidence before the court Ser Kevan?” Tommen responds.

His uncle nods, and the doors to the throne room open, as servants come in bringing evidence, written and witnessed by members of the Kingsguard, and Tommen’s own small council members. All of it is laid at the foot of the throne, and Tommen merely looks at Baelish and asks his uncle. “Tell me Ser Kevan, what does this evidence point toward?”

His uncle takes a moment to respond and then says. “To me it seems that Lord Baelish has borne a very crippling grudge against the Starks for many years. Ever since Lord Brandon Stark was betrothed to Lady Catelyn Tully. It seems that he has wanted to bring about their downfall for some time, and take the woman for himself.”

Tommen feels his wife tense beside him, and he takes her hand and squeezes it. “And, do you think his actions as implicated in this testimony are the actions of a man bent of revenge regardless of the danger to the kingdom?”

His great uncle is silent a moment and then he nods. “Yes Your Grace. It seems that there is more and more proof that Lord Baelish is a serious threat to the realm, and that he must be removed.”

There is a long moment’s silence and then Baelish speaks. “These are all lies Your Grace. Do not believe them, there is more to me than this.”

“Do you deny bearing a grudge against the Starks and causing things to occur that led to the war?” Tommen asks ignoring the man’s response.

Baelish is silent, and it is his wife who speaks. “So that is why you told me to write to Cat?! You wanted the war, you told me we were doing them a favour. Petyr, why? WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?!”

Baelish looks at his wife and merely snarls. “You were never the one I wanted. I want Cat, I’ve always wanted her.” He looks at Tommen then and snarls. “And you, you are a greater fool than your brother was. You work like this, and it will get you nowhere. Kill me if you want, the realm is broken.”

Tommen laughs then, causing the court to stop its muttering. “Oh you fool, the Starks are our allies, I am Robert Baratheon’s son, and you, and you are going to die right now. Ser Illyn bring me his head.”

* * *

 

**White Knife**

**Lord Robb Stark**

Winter had truly come to the north, the snow was lying thickly on the ground, and it made marching through it difficult. Some two thousand men had met him on the Kingsroad, commanded by Ser Wylis Manderly, they had come from White Harbour and had brought with them, his little brother Rickon that in itself had been an emotional reunion, Rickon just about remembered him, and for Robb, by the gods it was good to be home. Their mother had held Rickon and sobbed, and Robb had felt his heart break a little when his little brother had asked where Bran was. Once they were done with this fighting, they would move onto Winterfell and secure it, once and for all.

“They should, if Umber got the plan right, be coming this way in a moment my lord.” Ser Wylis says.

“Good, the Ryswell forces are in place as well?” Robb asks.

“Yes my lord, they are waiting north of here, waiting for the bastard’s forces to come.” Wylis replies.

Not for the first time, Robb wonders how Stannis could’ve failed to beat the bastard’s forces. “How is it that he failed to beat Snow? He had him pinned down against the river. What foolery convinced him not to go for the kill?”

Dacey speaks then. “It might well have been Arnolf Karstark, the old man might be dead now, but he is cunning and his plans worked well.”

Robb sighs. “Karstark, that family has given me far too many headaches to be truly worth the trouble.” he takes a breath and then looks at Alysanne Mormont. “You will protect my mother and brother and sister Aly?”

The big she bear bows her head. “With my life my lord. They will not come to harm, I promise you.”

A horn sounds just as Robb replies. “Good, let us defeat this fool.” He draws his sword, and spurs his horse on, turning round to face his men and women. “The north has bled, for far too long she has bled. Today we change that, today we show these fools, what it means to be a Northman. I know I failed in the past, but I am a Stark, and I am ready to show them the meaning of my words. Are you?!” There is a cheer at this, and Robb roars. “Are you ready to show these curs who is in charge here?” A roar greets him, and Robb yells. “Then let us introduce them to the death they so covet.”

He spurs his horse onward, leading the charge, barking commands and calling for his men to follow him, and they do. The White Knife is there in the distance, but Baratheon men are faltering, they are struggling to cross the ice covered river, and Robb makes use of this. He is one of the first to crash into Baratheon men, swinging his sword in a bloody arch, he swings, and removes a man’s head, and then removes a man’s arm, on they go, swinging his sword and cutting men down to size. He will break this southern fool’s army, and tell him what is what. And he will find the red whore and end her as well. He cuts more and more men down, looking for the one person who he can break and send back to King’s Landing in a box.

Chaos comes with the winter, and men are finding it hard to tell friend from foe, but the beating of their drums aids them in some way, his sword is singing with the blood being shed, bodies are growing in numbers, and there are more southerners here, and he licks his lips. Fresh pickings for the hunger inside of him. He swings his sword, barking orders, watching as his men fight with the hunger of animals, determination filling every fibre of their being. He approves, there is no point fighting for something unless you intend to do it with full force. He swings his sword, and watches another body fall onto the ice. Soon enough the ice will crack and melt, but not before he has Baratheon before him, not yet, he knows this place, and he knows that the ice will hold for some time.

There are bodies weighing down the ice and Robb can feel the pressure in his bones, and yet he knows that there will be no sinking northmen today. Baratheon men are falling and are falling back. As he notes this, he sees the Baratheon banner flying high, the red stag, and he roars a command and his men come with him. They are galloping toward the man and his guards, when a cold fills them, and then fire, a red whore stands before them, men fall toward her power, and yet Robb continues, he gallops onward and when he comes toward her, he cuts her head off, removing her from the powerful base that is present within the white knife. Baratheon stands there, a look of fear on his face, Robb yells a challenge. “Come and out fight you coward. Your nephew is more a man than you will ever be.” There is a surge out of protest and his guards come charging forward. Robb cuts one down, and then another, and then the third he merely pushes away, by the time he comes before Stannis Baratheon, the man has his sword out but nothing to fight with. Robb swings his sword and removes Baratheon’s sword in one go alongside his arm. He turns his horse around and then spears Baratheon through the chest, his sword pierces the man’s armour, or boiled leather, whatever it is the fool is wearing, and as the man slumps off of his horse, Robb dismounts, moves to his body, and pulls out a short sword, and removes the man’s head, holding it up high in the air for all to see.

“Baratheon is dead, bend the knee, or die.” he roars. “Bend the knee in the name of King Tommen Baratheon.”


	30. Sadman's Goodbye

**4 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Robb Stark**

They had ridden into Winterfell like kings and queens, they were kings and queens within the north, it had taken him a lot to realise that, and he cherished it, he would not seek a crown, not when he could rule in all but name here as a king. Winterfell was in ruins somewhat, but with the gold the king had given him, and with the trade deals being agreed, they would soon see it rebuilt. Ramsay Snow was dead, his army destroyed, the Ryswells had once more showed their loyalty and the Karstarks of Arnolf Karstark’s line were now all rotting as heads on spikes. Jon and Bran had come with an army as well and now they were truly reuniting.

Robb looks at his brother and smiles. “I see you’re still wearing black then brother. The Watch not tell you that black does not suit you?”

His brother laughs. “Ah, but you see Stark it does. At least for now. I intend to see to the lands north of here, with your permission of course.”

Robb nods. “Aye, see to it in time. But for now, let us enjoy this reunion of our family. Tell me how did you arrive at the mountains?”

Jon looks somewhat abashed then, and Robb wonders at that. “I was pushed from the wall as it were. Told that my services were not needed anymore, or they were to detrimental to the watch. That I would be better served coming back to my home.”

Robb merely looks at his brother. “And you ended up in the mountains how?”

“Well, there was this figure who kept appearing, poking me further and further south from the wall, until I ended up within the mountains and that is where I found Bran and his companions.” Jon replies.

Robb’s attention is grabbed by this. “The Reed boy and girl, correct?” His brother nods. “And what state were they in?”

They both look at their younger brother, who is laughing at something Arya is saying. The Reed girl stands by his side, a grim look on her face. “Bad, they looked half starved, and Jojen Reed looked as if he was going to commit murder.”

Robb sighs. “That is not good, not good at all. Howland will want to know.”

“I still don’t fully understand why they came here and did not send men south with you. Did you ever meet Howland Reed?” Jon asks.

Robb nods. “I did, I co-ordinated a lot of what happened in the north with him, Wyman and Galbart, the Ryswells were opportunistic at best, but we need them to hold the Rills and to keep the Ryders in check.”

“What of Barbrey Dustin? What will you do with her? She was going to support Bolton had he not died during the wedding?” Jon asks.

“She will remain in Barrowton, though in time I might well see to it that you are given that land and income. The Dreadfort is to be torn down. There is no place for such a damnation within the north.” Robb says.

They both look around as they see Rickon giggling when mother tickles him. Robb smiles, and Jon looks somewhat sad. “I learned who my mother was when I was in the mountains.” Jon says.

Robb keeps his face expressionless, he has known this truth for some time, but decides against speaking for a time, before saying. “Oh? And who was she?”

“Your aunt, my mother was Lord Eddard’s sister, Lady Lyanna.” Jon says solemnly.

Robb looks at his brother then, and sees his torn expression. “And your father was Rhaegar Targaryen?” he questions.

“Yes. My mother and father ran away together and caused all kinds of trouble because of it.” Jon replies.

Robb looks at his brother and asks. “And what do you make of all of that? You finally know who your mother is. Are you happy with that knowledge?”

His brother sighs. “For the longest time, I wanted to know who my mother was, I always wanted to know. And now I know, and well, I kind of wish I did not know. I would rather be a motherless bastard, whose father was Eddard Stark, than be some stupid dragon. I did not know either of my true parents, and they did not know me. I’d rather not know them.”

“Then do not worry. You will always be my brother.” Robb replies, he pauses and then looks at their siblings. “You will always be our brother. Jon, you are a Stark, we share the same blood, do not forget that ever.” He pulls out a piece of paper that the king signed before he left King’s Landing, and hands it to Jon.

His brother takes the paper and then asks. “What is this?”

“A decree legitimising you as a Stark. King Tommen signed it before I left King’s Landing. From now on you are Jon Stark, and you are my brother in everything now.” Robb replies.

His brother looks at him speechless and then he whispers. “Does your mother know?”

“Yes and she does not care. This war changed us all. We are a family again for the first time in two years. Sansa is the Queen now, we have a lot of power within the realm, and I will need you by my side to help heal the north.” Robb says.

His brother nods. “I should have been by your side from the beginning, going to the Wall was one to most ridiculous decisions I ever made.”

Robb clasps his brother on the shoulder and replies. “We all make mistakes. We are alive now, and we can learn from our mistakes and make sure they never happen again. That is what we must do now, the north cannot suffer from our follies and our father’s follies.”

“I will stand by you brother. Forever and always.” his brother responds.

Robb looks at his brother and says. “Forever and always.”

* * *

 

**5 th Month of 300 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Tommen I Baratheon**

The world was coming back to some semblance of stability, his mother was to be wed to Willas Tyrell soon enough, and in that way they would ensure the security over the reach, for Tommen did not intend for the man to live long past siring a child on his mother. Margaery Tyrell would remain here in King’s Landing until Stark decided that he wanted her for his bride, and right now, well Tommen listened with good intention as his uncle spoke of the goings on in the kingdom.

“The Starks are secure in Winterfell once more Your Grace. Robb Stark managed to slay Stannis Baratheon and destroyed his host as well as beating and slaying Ramsay Snow. Stark has also begun repairing Winterfell, and has also ordered the demolition of the Dreadfort.” Ser Kevan says.

“Good, very good. And he has given the word of his brother’s legitimisation?” Tommen asks.

“Yes Your Grace, it has been received well within the north, and it seems that the northmen are finally beginning to heal despite the winter snows that lie on the ground.” Ser Kevan says.

“Good. Now tell me, what word has there been from the Stormlands? Has Tyrell managed to defeat the pretender?” Tommen asks.

His uncle looks down at the letters before him and nods. “He has indeed Your Grace. It appears that there was a battle outside Griffin’s Roost, and Tyrell and his forces managed to sufficiently rout and destroy the pretender’s forces. The pretender himself was killed during the fighting and his head is now mounted atop a spike in Storm’s End.”

Tommen nods. “That is excellent news. And now with the Stormlands somewhat secure, we can begin truly focusing on what things need to be done regarding the menace that is coming toward us.” he pauses a moment and then continues. “I have spoken with Prince Oberyn and his nephew Prince Quentyn, and though some of their revelations are treasonous, I am willing to overlook them, for the information they have provided. Prince Oberyn if you could.”

The Dornish prince nods. “Thank you Your Grace. Now, Daenaerys Targaryen is coming here with a fleet and her dragon. From what we know, she has only the one, the plan myself and my nephew implemented worked and she lost two of her dragons on the way here. The fleet she has is not enough to combat both the Redwyne fleet and some of royal fleet. However, her dragon if given enough time will cause a lot of chaos, therefore, I have sent word to my brother and he has given the command for ships from Dorne to come.”

“And can those ships be trusted?” Pycelle asks. “I mean no offense, but given the recent revelations, you can understand why some here might be sceptical.”

The prince merely snorts. “The commander of the Dornish fleet owes no loyalty to the dragons, indeed he despises them. And so yes they can be trusted. And considering our ships have scorpions on them that alongside the weapons on the Redwyne fleet should be enough. One must only kill the rider to send the dragon away fleeing into the darkness.”

“And if one wants to bring down the dragon and the rider both?” Tommen asks. “A dragon without a rider, can itself cause a fair bit of damage. I would rather not lose more men than I have to. The time has come for this damned threat to be gone once and for all.”

The prince nods. “That is understandable Your Grace. What happened with Queen Rhaenys, the wife of the conqueror was a rare thing, but if one can draw the dragon close enough to water, there will be power enough to bring them down rider and dragon. From what we know that dragon is big, but it is not experienced, enrage it, and it will do something rash.”

Tommen considers this and then says. “Very well, word will be sent to Lord Paxter, and of course I do want your Dornish captains to inform him of this as well. It is time that we ended this threat once and for all.” Tommen pauses a moment and then says. “What word has there been from Lord Tyrion, has he heard anything more from those merchants who have returned from the west?”

His uncle nods. “It seems that they are looking for permission for a full expedition into the westward lands Your Grace. Lord Tyrion seems convinced that there is something out there worth exploring and perhaps people who can be used for good here as well for the rebuilding of the economy.”

Tommen considers this for a moment and then says. “Very well, send a raven to Lord Tyrion and tell him to bring these merchants with him when he returns to King’s Landing. Now if there is nothing more, the meeting is at an end.” Tommen stands and merely nods at his council members, accompanied by the Kingsguard he walks back to his rooms and there he sees Sansa sitting at her dressing table, he smiles at her and comes to stand behind her. His hands immediately go to her belly, which is beginning to swell. He kisses the nape of her neck. “And how are you my love?”

Sansa hums then. “I am well my love. And you? How did the council meeting go?”

He kisses his way up her neck, and in between kisses speaks. “It went well, we might well have found more land beyond the sunset sea, land which can be brought under our control, ready to conquer. And we now know how to bring down the dragon whore.”

“That is interesting, and I do wish you wouldn’t call her a whore. Bitch more preferable yes, but not whore. That is an insult to whores.” Sansa says breathily.

Tommen laughs then. “Oh my love, I do think the babe is making you feisty, very feisty. I like that, I like that a lot.”

His wife turns round then, a hunger in her eyes. “Well, let us see how much you do like it.”

* * *

 

**Sixth Month of 300 A.C. Summer Sea**

**Lord Paxter Redwyne**

Fire burned in the air, but it made no difference, Paxter laughed as wind and rain dampened dragon flame. He thanked the gods for that, and barked out more commands, he watched as the Ironborn before him were crushed into near oblivion, and with his armour on he began commanding his own ship toward ensuring that the Ironborn were completely annihilated. He knew what needed to be done, he just needed to tempt the whore in the sky toward her doom, and that would be that. Gods be good he wanted this to be over and done with, he was too old for this now, but on he went.

The ships crash into one another, and the waves are pounding against the ships, Paxter draws his weapons forth and barks commands, one after the other the Ironborn come streaming toward him and his men and they are cut down, he laughs as this happens, laughing all the while, making sure that none know the way out or the plan that is being concocted and nearly put into action. The Ironborn are fighting without a clear plan and that that is their downfall, Paxter’s weapons are bloodied, but there is a hunger inside him for bigger fish. The Ironborn are losing ground, they are decimated, and Paxter knows that sooner or later the whore in the sky will need to come down to face fire.

The whore comes down to breathe fire and arrows and spears and all kinds of things are fired at her, they bounce off of her dragon, but some hit her, she is bleeding, Paxter can tell by the way she is slumping down in her saddle. The squids are faltering now, they do not have the numbers to overwhelm Paxter’s forces, and that is something he pushes. The squids come falling down, drowning in their armour, the savages from the east are brought low, cut down and destroyed. Paxter bellows more commands and just as the whore comes down from the sky once more, the scorpions are loosed, some miss but the rest hit their mark, and when they do, the bitch and her dragon release a fierce howl, something that makes Paxter and his men cheer with approval. And when the bitch and her dragon come tumbling down into the sea, they roar and Paxter orders the slaughter of the Ironborn.

The next bit of fighting is a rout, the Ironborn are broken, they have nothing, absolutely nothing left, and yet they still fight. The fools that they are, they refuse to admit when they are broken, even when the bodies of the bitch and her dragon come floating to the surface they continue fighting. And as such, Paxter has no hesitation in seeing them massacred, he has them broken down, every part of them, they are slaughtered, killed and butchered, down to the last man, woman and child. When the fog clears and there are none of the squids or the savages left, then he raises the king’s banner and the celebrations begin.

* * *

 

**8 th Month of 300 A.C. Winterfell**

**Queen Sansa Baratheon**

The war was over, Daenaerys Targaryen was dead, and her body rotting deep in the Summer Sea, and the realm was at peace once more. Sansa felt deeply relieved about that as she felt her stomach, she knew her and Tommen’s child would be born in a time of peace. Her husband and love was speaking with her brother, Robb, who had just gotten married, not to Margaery Tyrell as Sansa had hoped, but to Wynafryd Manderly, the daughter of Lord Wyman Manderly. She knew her husband was somewhat disappointed, but Sansa was happy with that. Margaery, well she had been married off to Sansa’s uncle Edmure after Roslin had died from a fever, alongside their child.  But for now, Sansa was happy to be in Winterfell with those she loved.

She looks at her mother then and asks. “How are you feeling mother?”

Her mother takes a moment to respond but when she does her voice is strong. “I am well sweetling I am well. It has taken some time to get used to, but I do feel that things are beginning to look up for us all now. You are happy?”

“Very much so, Tommen is lovely, and he is kind and caring, and I do think he has the makings of a great king. The kingdoms are at peace, and some of the scourge of the court has been removed. Cersei has gone to marry Willas Tyrell, and I know she won’t come back.” Sansa responds.

Her mother nods and then says. “I am sorry that I could not come and see you before this sweetling. But your siblings needed me. And I am so very sorry that I did not try harder to get you from King’s Landing before.”

Sansa takes her mother’s hand then and says. “I am quite glad that you did not mother. If you had, I would not have gotten to know Tommen the way I do now, and I would never have become the person I am now. The girl I was, was not suited to anything, the woman I am now, I hope is. I hope to be a good wife, and a good queen to Tommen. And I hope to be a good mother.”

Her mother smiles then. “I am sure you will Sansa sweetling. Do you have any thoughts on names for the child?”

Sansa considers for a moment and then says. “If it is a girl we are naming her Myrcella after Tommen’s sister, and if it is a boy, Eddard after father.”

She looks at her mother then, and sees tears in her eyes. “Two lovely names sweetling. I am sure all will be well for you.”

“I know it will be mother, for we are wolves, and wolves survive winter. The pack is reunited, we are strong now.” Sansa says.

It is then that the call goes up for the bedding, and Sansa smiles slightly at her mother, as they watch Robb and Wynafryd both hoisted up into the air, and carted off to the room where they will consummate their marriage. Sansa sighs softly then, all is well with the world. And she hopes it will remain that way, but she is not naïve enough to believe it will.


End file.
